


Hellion and the Lingering Testament from Within

by DeanJHarrison



Series: Hellion [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Allusions to sex work, Allusions to victim!harry, Alternate Universe, Angst, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, But Savage Harry, Drarry, Good Severus Snape, Good Slytherins, He goes by Hellion, Hellion loves the Weasleys, Humor, I always strive for humor, I plan for drarry, Not book snape, Nothing sexually graphic happens, OOC Harry Potter, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rewrite, Runaway Harry Potter, Slytherin Harry Potter, Snape is def more like movie snape, Street Savvy Harry Potter, Swearing, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change, Weasleys twins get more scene time, but don't tell that to hellion's face, but they're young right now, he'll punch you, no ron bashing, violence warning because hellion punches a loser unconscious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2020-07-08 06:47:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 94,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19865257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanJHarrison/pseuds/DeanJHarrison
Summary: As a young child, Harry met a homeless man and realised that when it came to food, clothing, and other necessities, they were about equal. The main difference between them was Harry had shelter. Deciding he no longer wanted to pay the price that shelter cost, he ran away.Harry Potter has been missing for years, and as a desperate last attempt at finding the child before Potter misses the start of term and the whole wizarding world learns of his absence, Severus activates a Life Oath owed to the boy's father. He quickly learns that the Headmaster's claims that the boy has maintained his innocence and health all these years are grossly incorrect.When a street-savvy, hardened pre-teen gets a whole different introduction to the wizarding world, we get yet another HP series rewrite.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my dumpster fire!  
> This is an AU rewrite. Harry Potter is out of character because he's now Hellion! He's a Slytherin, has a mouth on him, carries a switchblade, and will punch you. No, he does not trust adults.  
> Because this is a rewrite, there is some text taken directly from the books. This is /not/ an attempt at plagiarism. I am receiving nothing from this work and don't pretend I have any actual rights to absolutely anything Harry Potter related. What it is, is an attempt to create the cliche (or classic) HP-rewrite-trope, build a more seamless AU, and most importantly, create a familiar and safe environment to introduce Hellion!  
> I hope you accept him because I love him so much.  
> This is "book one", and this is only "book" that will have lifted text. Again, the most important reason why I've attempted this is to try to present Hellion in place of our beloved Harry Potter.  
> A giant thanks to Caty for being my beta. I appreciate you so incredibly much. Thank you for overthinking so I don't have to. :D But seriously, thank you. Your ideas, puzzlement, and what-if's breathe life into these things I try to do.

_ 1988 _

Harry was so cold. He was shaking a little, but the bright Christmas lights, the joyous bells, and the laughter and excited chatter around him were enough to help him pretend he was warm. He was trying very hard to keep up with his aunt, knowing full well that she would leave him behind if he got lost. They had only come into the city because Dudley had demanded this new top-of-line toy that only recently came out, and it was very crowded being so close to the holiday.

Harry didn't mind though. He liked the city, especially around the holidays. Plus, it was a rare treat for him to be allowed to come. Sure, Aunt Petunia didn't really have a choice with no one available to watch him, but Harry could pretend he was wanted.

"Sorry," he mumbled, bumping into someone. He tried stepping out of the way but unintentionally stepped into the middle of a big group coming out of a store. "Sorry, sorry, sorry," he chanted trying to rush out.

"Move it," one man grunted, shoving him away.

"Sorry, sorry!"

He stumbled out of the crowd and looked around. He couldn't see his aunt anywhere.

"Oh, no."

Jogging, he tried going all the way down the street. He looked both ways, but nothing. He stood on the tip of his toes, but that was no help at all.

Would his aunt come back this way? Maybe he could find where she parked the car? Wait there?

An hour later, Harry was freezing and mildly panicked. He tried to ask for help but no one would even stop to look at him properly. One bloke merely shoved a banknote at him. Harry had no idea what to do.

"You lost, kid?" asked a gruff voice.

Harry spun to see a homeless man sitting at the mouth of an alley. He was bundled in a ripped, faded blanket and a beanie with several holes in it. He had a cardboard sign leaned against a bag next to him, asking for money and food.

Harry nodded shyly, unsure what to make of him.

"Where's your parents at?" the man asked.

Harry stepped a little closer to hear better and noticed a distinct stench of someone unwashed. Someone who had been unwashed for a while, by the smell of it.

"I don't have any," Harry answered him. "I got separated from my aunt."

The man nodded as though he expected nothing else. "D'you know where to go fer the police?"

Harry bit his lip and shook his head. "They wouldn't want me doing that."

The man frowned then coughed. Worried, Harry scuttled closer.

"Are you okay?"

The man continued to cough, and despite the smell, Harry gently patted the man on the shoulder, wanting to help but not knowing how. "I'm fine," the man wheezed. "Why… why wouldn't they want you ter go ter a rozzer?"

Harry crossed his arms against a breeze, wishing he had a warmer, thicker coat. "Because… just, they would be angry if I did."

The man considered him some, and Harry considered him back. The man looked cold as well, and Harry was willing to bet he himself had on warmer clothes than the man did. Remembering the pound the other man had shoved at him earlier, Harry brightened a little and pulled it from his pocket.

"Here," he smiled. "I hope this helps."

The man looked at the pound then threw his head back and laughed. "You keep it," he coughed. He then asked where Harry lived and dug a few more pounds out of his own pocket. "You take this, go't the bus, ask the driver if they go to Surrey. If they don't, ask which bus does. Then take this money and ride home, son."

Harry was stunned. "But you need this money."

The man smiled a yellow-tooth smile. "I can get more. You need ter get home."

It took a little convincing, but eventually, Harry took the money, found a bus station, did as the man instructed, and a few hours later, was knocking on the front door of 4 Privet Drive.

"Told you," Uncle Vernon yelled as soon as he opened the door.

"Is it him?" Aunt Petunia asked from the kitchen.

"Yes," Uncle Vernon snarled, roughly grabbing Harry by the collar then swiftly locking him in his cupboard and telling him he was to get no meals for two days as punishment for getting lost.

During those days, Harry thought about the homeless man in comparison to himself.

They both had clothes that barely did anything except keep them from being nude. They both went hungry and probably had about the same amount of time between meals. They both were looked down upon by most people, both called names, and both got sick easily if the man's cough was anything to go by. The difference between them was that Harry at least had shelter, and if an illness or injury got bad enough, got some care. Though, his eyesight was getting worse, but it wasn't bad enough yet where his aunt and uncle would do anything about it. He was sure any day now his teacher would send him home with a letter, and that would just lead to further punishment on his part, even if he got his eyesight fixed in the end.

Yes, Harry may have had a roof over his head, but was the cost really worth it? The man on the street was really nice. That didn't promise everyone on the street was, he knew that. But… the homeless man was confident he would get more money. A lot of people just shoved money at homeless people—he knew, he saw it every time he got to go out with his aunt. They were mostly ignored, and better yet, they weren't punished. They were free to find their own food, not locked in a cupboard.

Maybe it was the hunger that drove him away. Maybe it was the way his aunt and uncle looked at him versus the way the homeless man did. Maybe it was the way Uncle Vernon backhanded him so hard he hit the wall, fell to the floor, then was thrown in his cupboard.

Ultimately, it was because they forgot to lock him in.

So, late in the night on Christmas Eve, Harry snuck out of his cupboard. He nicked his cousin's big, thick coat, some gloves, a scarf, and a hat, a backpack stuffed with food, a pillow and blanket, along with his toothbrush, his cousin's toothpaste, and some toilet tissue just in case. He grabbed some other things he thought he might need, and also stole however much money was in his aunt's purse.

Finally, he left a note on the kitchen table:

_ Merry Christmas. I'm never coming back. _

_ -Harry _

Unbeknownst to Harry, as he wrote those words and signed his name, a blood protection running through his veins shifted, leaving the house with him and keeping him from sight.

_ 1991 _

Severus was tired, annoyed, and couldn't believe he was doing this.

Harry Potter had been missing for over three and a half years. He still remembered the day it happened—blasted child had to choose Christmas Day. Mrs Figg, per her assignment, went over to deliver fruitcake and check on the child. She reported he wasn't there, and that something seemed off with the Dursleys. A few spells, and they easily confirmed the boy wasn't anywhere in the area. A few pointed questions at Petunia and her muggles, and they showed them the note Potter left.

At first, Severus thought it was clearly a tantrum of a spoiled child, but while Dumbledore was questioning the muggles, Severus slowly explored the downstairs, hoping that if he got busy looking there, he wouldn't have to be the one to search the brat's bedroom.

When he peeked into the cupboard under the stairs, he did not expect what he found. A few detection spells later, and the abuse was clear to Severus.

He told the Headmaster this, but Albus dismissed him, saying he must have been mistaken.

Months later and Potter still hadn't resurfaced, Severus told McGonagall. She confronted the Headmaster, but again he dismissed it, confident in the child's care.

When a year passed, they both confronted Dumbledore again, as the odds of the child being alive at all at that point were practically nil, and they felt the Dursleys deserved punishment for it. That was when the Headmaster revealed a small crystal that he had spelled himself and would have told Dumbledore if Harry Potter's heart was no longer beating.

It wasn't long after that Dumbledore himself finally started to show signs of being deeply concerned. When they reached the two-year mark, Albus finally broke down and revisited the Dursleys to do official spell work. It revealed years of abuse and neglect. McGonagall and Severus shared a long look, but neither said anything. The guilt on the Headmaster would have had to have been enough for then.

Several random reports would come in from time to time, different witches and wizards reporting they had seen Harry Potter. Some of them reported he looked ill or injured, was dirty or seemed homeless. Others reported he looked like a normal, happy child. No matter which, they were enthusiastic about meeting the Boy Who Lived and was happy to tell whoever would listen, causing Hogwarts to have to head the Ministry off before they could get too suspicious.

Not long after a report of Harry Potter attempting to actually attack a wizard, Dumbledore brought up binding spells Severus could do to find the boy. After all, the boy's father did save Severus' life. Neither party had activated any kind of Life Oath owed, but Severus could now, and that oath would be transferred to his son. It could help find him, as it was clear at this point that the boy's own magic must have been preventing him from being found. Not even Dumbledore's private resources at the Ministry could find Potter's Trace.

Severus begrudgingly said that he would activate some kind of Life Oath as a final, desperate attempt before they had to get the Ministry officially involved, which would inform the entire wizarding world that their Boy Who Lived was missing, and if they were unlucky enough, that he had been missing for quite some time.

Now, it was less than a fortnight before the start of what should be Harry Potter's first year at Hogwarts. Severus had put it off for as long as possible. If he failed, Dumbledore could weasel out of any blame the Ministry would want to give, but they would perhaps be successful at finding the boy. If he succeeded, then, apparently to Dumbledore, everything was still… 'salvageable'.

Severus booked a room at the Leaky Cauldron as most sightings and results of their own searching put Potter in London over the years, and at midnight, performed the  _ Debitum Ad Vitae Perficitur _ , a ritual and oath that would almost assuredly allow Severus to find the boy.

Four hours later, he was walking some questionable streets of London, and thanks to the headlights of a passing car, was able to just catch a familiar messy pile of black hair of a short someone ducking behind a dumpster. If Severus didn't know he was looking for James Potter's son, he would have thought it was an eleven-year-old James Potter himself.

He slowly approached.

"Harry Potter?" he asked quietly.

Nothing.

"Potter, you need to come out. Enough is enough."

It was almost eerie, his footsteps on the wet pavement being the only sound above a light dripping of water from the rain earlier that night. He tried to push down his annoyance, positive he was going to find a frightened child huddled next to the brick wall. However, when he peeked over the dumpster, nothing was there.

Suddenly, there was a sharp pain slicing at his ankle, and he jumped back, shocked, to find Potter had ducked underneath the dumpster and just swiped at him with a switchblade. The few feet he stumbled back was enough for the young boy to dart out from his hiding place and take off down the alley toward the street.

Severus growled and Apparated to the mouth of the alley to block Potter's exit. "Think again, Potter."

The boy got into an obviously well-practised defence position, knife up and ready to strike. He was short, coming to about Severus' midsection. His hair was matted, unwashed, and sticking up every which way. What was startling in what little streetlight there was, was that Severus could see the boy had his mother's eyes. He was squinting though, and Severus wondered if it was natural for the boy because of that fierce look on his face or not. He wore battered, dirty trousers and a ripped shirt. He reeked to high heaven as well, but honestly, otherwise, he looked alright.

Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the child's attempt to look threatening and held up his hands. "Put down the weapon, Potter. You will lose in a fight against me, and I can find you now, no matter where you go."

"Rubbish," the boy snarled. "Move."

"No. This has gone on long enough, Potter. It's time to return to your world."

"I left 'em years ago. I've made it this far—I don't need 'em!"

Severus really did roll his eyes this time. "Not  _ that _ world, you daft muppet. The wizarding world."

Confusion flickered across the boy's face briefly, but he otherwise didn't react. "Move."

Severus narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. "You do know about the wizarding world, yes?"

"Move. I don't wanna hurt you."

"I can assure you, foolish child, you won't hurt me. Answer my question."

"Won't hurt you?" the boy curled his lip. "I'd like to see you try to say that with your throat slit."

It was an unusually ominous, and disturbing, threat from someone so young. Especially since, in that moment, Potter looked like he was capable of fulfilling it. "If you even try, you will be the one hurt, Mr Potter."

"Stop callin' me that!" the boy hissed. "Move out of my way!"

Severus took a step forward, trying to see any angle that could get the boy to put the weapon down. Albus had sounded so positive all these years that the boy was still just as pure and innocent as ever. The boy he was looking at now was anything but.

"I mean it," the child growled. "Stay back."

"Do you want me to stay back or move?"

"Both."

Severus took note of the brief fear that flashed in the boy's eyes as he tried to get closer. The child scuttled backwards more but was obviously still ready for attack. "And if I don't?" Severus challenged.

"I'll kill you if I have to," the child said softly. "And I'm warnin' you, if you don't stop, it may not be up to me."

Severus froze then, a slight chill racing down his spine. There were several implications of that statement, even though Potter most likely meant his own accidental magic, but it wasn't at all good or okay. Well, it was indifferent to him, really, he knew they both would be fine due to his skill and the oath he activated if a pimp or the like came after them, but not good for the boy's past years.

What exactly had been happening to Harry Potter?

Severus closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and told himself just to focus on solving the immediate issue: getting Harry Potter into custody of some kind.

"Enough. Harry Potter, I know you grew up in an abusive home and ran away years ago. I am not here to take you back. I am here to offer you an entirely different world from either them or the streets, which," he sneered, looking the boy up and down, "has obviously been your residence for a while. I'm offering a chance to get three square meals a day, a warm bed, friends among your age group, and even a chance to actually learn something."

If his impromptu speech didn't work, Severus thought his usual teacher-tone would. Instead, Potter snarled harder.

"Right," the child drawled, "and you'll just do tha' out of the kindness of your heart. No need to run drugs for you or suck you off. Listen here, you perv, I don't care if you're from the Dursleys, the Spooks, or just some sick fuck—you will move out of my way or I will make you."

There was a time, once, when Severus saw those exact same eyes look that fierce and threatening.

Never, however, had he seen those eyes also look haunted.

In that moment, he had no doubt this boy would do his best to fulfil his threats, and also, in that moment, something shattered in Severus. For all these years, he thought of Harry Potter in one of four ways: as the symbol of his guilt for having betrayed Lily so thoroughly, as a symbol of his heartbreak for losing Lily, as  _ James Potter's _ son, or as Lily's son.

Now, he was pulled fully to the present with the child's words, with the sharp smell of the child's body odour, the stench of the dumpster, the crisp scent of the rain, the slight  _ swoosh _ of traffic, and those green eyes on such a young face, set so deadly…

At that moment, the child stopped being anyone's son. At that moment, seeing Lily's eyes on such a young James' face, but eyes so much older than either of them ever became, he couldn't help but see this child as his own person. Any whispers of his past grudges or feelings dissipated rapidly, and Severus realised he was only holding on because… because it was what he used to gauge himself. His morals and everything.

Looking down at an eleven-year-old child, brandishing a switchblade and more than ready to harm him with it… his morals  _ finally _ found a gauge of their own, after all these years.

He swallowed, then squatted so he was the shorter one. The child obviously didn't expect nor like that, taking several more steps back.

"I'm not going to fight you. Nor am I going to let you hurt me or yourself. I'm here to take you home—to your  _ real _ home. The one your parents wanted you to have."

There was no mistaking the sudden desire that shone in the child's eyes, but he was far from letting his guard down. "I bet. And next you'll be tellin' me you knew me parents and tha' I'm somethin' special. I may've been born at night, Spook, but it wasn't last night."

"As a matter of fact, I did know your parents. Lily and James Potter. Your aunt Petunia was Lily's sister."

Surprisingly, that broke through to the boy. He narrowed his eyes, studying Severus for several long moments, then asked, "Who are you?"

"My name is Severus Snape."

The child readjusted his grip on the switchblade. "Don't ring no bells. I'm not goin' anywhere with you, so unless you want somethin' else, you can go."

Severus considered him then said, "I merely want you to listen. I can get you some fresh clothes, take you somewhere to wash up, and buy you breakfast. All I ask for in return is for you to listen to what I have to say."

It took several more long moments, but then the boy finally lowered his weapon, his obvious hunger surely the only reason he was agreeing. "You try anythin' funny, you'll be sorry."

Severus inclined his head then stood. Figuring offering to take the boy back to the room he booked wouldn't go over well, he asked, "Where to?"

"The Y," the boy said immediately and began walking around him and away.

Severus followed, being sure to keep his distance, and when they passed by an all-hour supermarket, he had them stop to buy the boy new clothes and shoes. The boy looked surprised Severus actually bought him those things, and thanked him genuinely, but he still only came close enough to Severus to grab the bags before putting distance between them again.

Severus followed him several blocks to another building where Potter smirked and had Severus pay off the guard to allow the child to slip in and use their facilities. Severus half expected the boy to find some other way out once finished and scurry off, but he was pleased when the freshly washed boy came back to him.

The sun was beginning to rise when the two found a diner and went inside. The boy led them to a back booth and sat with his back to the wall. Severus didn't comment on it, nor when the boy ordered water, orange juice, and tea.

"So," Severus opened, wondering how to start this, "Potter, there's a lot-"

"I told you not to call me tha'," the boy scowled.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Then what shall I call you?"

"They call me Hellion."

"Do they," Severus drawled. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Shut up and tell me wha' you were gonna tell me. I don't have all day."

"Somehow I doubt that," Severus sneered.

"And somehow I don't care."

Severus' lips quirked at the boy's flare, and he settled back in his seat, deciding to get to the point. "When you were born, your name was put on a list of future students of Hogwarts. It's the same school your parents went to. This September would mark your first year there. It's a boarding school—an opportunity for a home between the months of September and June."

A muscle in the boy's jaw twitched. "Prove it."

Severus reached into the inside pocket of his casual robes and pulled out a Hogwarts letter address to the boy. As soon as the child saw it, his eyes went wide. "I take it you recognise this?"

"'Em birds. They kept droppin' similar ones near me, but they wouldn't leave, so I didn't take the bait."

Severus noted his wording. He slid the letter over to him, waiting patiently as the boy very carefully reached out and took it. Potter stared down dumbly at it, the letter addressed only as 'Harry Potter' as no one could find where the boy was, and Potter didn't even look up when the waitress came over with their drinks; he simply ordered a soup.

Severus thought this was easier than he originally assumed it would be until the boy opened the letter and began reading it. His face immediately hardened, and he crumbled it up and threw it at Severus.

"Problem?" Severus sneered.

"I dunno wha' you're playin' at, but you can leave. I listened to your tosh, so go."

"It is not tosh."

"Right," Potter sneered back, "I'm a wizard. You're here to sweep me up and whisk me off to a magic kingdom."

Severus took a breath to regain some patience and slowly pushed the crumbled letter back across the table. He crossed his arms. "Your scepticism is understandable. However, you aren't listening to me, are you? I can explain it all if you allow me."

"Fine," the boy crossed his arms too. "Explain. Start with how you know both me parents' names and my aunt's."

Severus frowned. "I believe I've already said that I knew them."

"The Spooks only know me parents' names. They don't know nothin' 'bout the Dursleys."

"Spooks…" Severus repeated, finally catching on that the strange term meant witches and wizards rather than the muggle law enforcement as Severus had initially assumed. "That's why you decided to listen to me. Others from our world have been searching for you for years, and you've run across others who recognised you. But they only knew of your parents…"

Potter didn't say anything.

Severus sighed, leaning forward. "Look, Potter-"

"Hellion."

"Hellion," Severus nodded begrudgingly. "How about I start from the beginning…"

Surprisingly, Potter didn't interrupt him and listened attentively, though his expression was blank, and Severus had no idea how the child was taking the news.

Severus explained that magic was real, asking the boy that if he didn't believe him, think back to whenever he was able to do something he couldn't explain. He told him that the boy's parents were magical, that they had actually met at the school being offered to Potter, and explained that when he went missing, many people in their world tried looking for him, but that, they theorised, the child's own magic prevented him from being found. He told Potter that he was able to perform a specific ritual, though he didn't tell him what kind, that allowed Severus to finally get close to the boy. He also explained that he knew Petunia because he also went to school with Potter's parents, although he made sure to mention how he only just knew them, that they weren't friends or close at all to head off any questions from the boy, just in case.

They fell quiet soon after the food arrived, and they stayed in silence as they ate, the boy drinking the soup like he did his other liquids. He seemed to be doing it carefully, and it made Severus wonder when the last time the boy ate was.

"So," Potter eventually said, "the Dursleys lied to me. This whole time I've actually been pretty normal, for this new world."

"In a way, yes."

Lips pursed, Potter uncrumpled his letter and read through it again. Then he looked up at Severus, meeting his eyes with another hard expression. "I still need you to prove it."

Severus raised an eyebrow in question.

"If you're a wizard, prove it. Do magic."

Annoyed, Severus huffed. "Not here."

Potter shrugged. "Sorry, I'm ain't goin' nowhere else with you. Either prove it, here, or leave."

Internally grumbling because he knew the child meant what he was saying, Severus took a careful glance around. Positive no one was looking, he pulled out his wand, the quickly transfigured Potter's empty teacup into a mouse.

Potter's eyes widened. "Wow."

Smirking, Severus transfigured it back, then jumped when Potter protested.

"No! Turn it back!"

Curious, Severus did. He watched carefully as Potter smiled slightly and gently coaxed the small, white mouse into his hand. He kept a soft smile as he pet the creature, then he bent over and began whispering to it.

"Potter," Severus hissed, a bit appalled at the child's behaviour.

Potter, however, didn't seem to hear him.

"Potter," Severus tried again, looking around and glad to see the early morning patrons weren't looking still. "Potter… Hellion."

The boy's head snapped up, clearly surprised. "Wha'?"

"Were you even aware I was addressing you?" Severus asked.

"Sorry," Hellion shrugged, still petting the mouse. "What d'you say?"

Filing that away, Severus moved on, "Put the mouse back."

"No," Hellion argued, cradling the creature to his chest, "I wanna keep 'im."

"You can't keep a transfigured mouse, you foolish boy," Severus hissed at him.

"Why not?" Hellion replied petulantly.

"Because it's not actually a mouse," Severus answered. "It's a teacup."

"Looks like a mouse to me," Hellion challenged defiantly. "It's breathin' and everything!"

"It will eventually turn back into a teacup because  _ that's what it is _ ."

Hellion frowned. "Can't you do something to make it stay a mouse?"

"No," Severus sighed. "Put it back on the table."

Hellion eyed him critically, then he sagged, pouting, and did as he was told. Severus returned the mouse back to a teacup just in time for the waitress to come over to see if they needed anything and clear off the table. As Severus asked for the check, Hellion studied his letter again. Severus watched as his childish pout turned into a real, resigned frown.

Slowly, with what sounded like genuine sadness, Hellion said, "Thank you for the offer, but I can't."

"Why ever not?"

Hellion spared him a look like he was an idiot then stared out the window and crossed his arms over his stomach. "I ain't got no money."

"You actually have quite a lot of money."

Hellion eyed him again.

"Your parents left you plenty of money. It's just our kind of money, not the kind you're used to. I'll show you where the wizard bank is and give you your key regardless, but if you accept your enrolment, I can also show you where to buy all the things you need. I'm even willing to help book you a room at a wizard inn until the start of term, and I have with me your train ticket to get to school. It's completely up to you. What do you say?"

Hellion stared at him completely expressionless for almost a full minute before he hunched in on himself more and looked down. After a moment, he nodded, agreeing, but his hair and posture hid his face completely. Severus could only imagine what the child was feeling or thinking, and he suddenly felt some bitterness and anger on behalf of the boy, knowing that whatever happened from that point forward, the child probably wasn't going to have an easy life.

It suddenly didn't seem fair.


	2. A Whole Hidden World

Hellion tried very hard not to gape at the bricks as they created an archway on their own. He wasn't entirely sure if this was just a dream yet or not, but just in case it wasn't, he didn't want to show the man how impressed he was.

"This is Diagon Alley," the man, Severus Snape, said. "It's not the only wizard shopping area in London, but it is the most popular, and for good reason. It's the best."

Hellion nodded to show that he heard, taking in all the bright colours of the seemingly endless shops down the crooked road. He wished he had his glasses, so he could see in more detail. In the large crowd, though, he could definitely see most everyone was wearing robes and strange hats.

"Yep," he said flatly, "those are Spooks."

He hadn't known what else to call them. For years now, every now and then he would meet one of those strangely dressed people, and they would just go beside themselves over meeting him. Eventually, he figured out his parents were a little famous—he sometimes liked to pretend they were movie stars and were the mains in any film he watched, but the only thing he really knew was that they were famous for their bravery or something. Those Spooks were generally harmless, but it was the disappearing-reappearing Spooks that worried him. They would pop out of nowhere, calling out his old name, always coming close to him but never quite finding him. It only took Hellion a couple of months to realise he was being stalked by the odd-clothed people. He had been running from them ever since.

It made him nervous to now be in the presence of so many.

"Problem?" Severus asked, giving Hellion an odd look.

"Yeah," Hellion glared. "I don't see no bank nowhere."

"Your grammar is atrocious," the man said in answer, leading Hellion further down the road.

"Well, pardon me," Hellion mocked in the best posh voice he could.

Severus' lips twitched, and that was the second time Hellion had seen him do that. Hellion wonder if it was because the man found something humorous and tried not to show it or because he was trying not to sneer. He thought maybe the former; considering their interactions so far, Hellion didn't think this man would have a problem letting his disgust show.

That was part of the reason why Hellion was inclined to believe and tentatively—very tentatively—trust him. All those Spooks with big, white smiles, falling over themselves wanting to buy him this and that, that he didn't trust at all. A man blatantly telling him he stunk and was buying him soap so he wouldn't have to smell him while they talked—that was different.

Hellion let his fingers tap against his thighs as he followed the man, careful not to get too close to anyone as much as possible. It was hard steering around all the other people, but he made sure to keep his head down and keep up. It was his lightning shaped scar on his forehead, he had learned the hard way, that made Spooks figure out who he was, so he always tried avoiding it. He wondered if he would really have to go back to that name—Harry Potter—if he was going to go to this new, magical school.

Finally, they reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was some unfortunate looking creature. He made a face, and Severus beside him snorted.

"That's called a goblin. Do try not to stare," Severus drawled as they walked up the white stone steps toward the creature. The goblin was about a head shorter than Hellion. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard, and, Hellion noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed to them as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

"Oh, wha'?" Hellion scoffed. "They can't be serious. A pretty little poem ain't gonna stop a thief set on robbery."

"Careful," Severus said quietly, nodding toward the door. "They are quite serious. Goblin magic is strong and intense. They protect their gold; it would be wise to keep your mouth shut, and for the record, only an absolute moron would try to rob goblins."

Hellion filed that information away but tried not to let it show how suddenly nervous it made him. He had lost count how many times he himself had been the thief in the night. He sincerely hoped the goblins couldn't sense it or something.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the doors, and then they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing Spooks in and out of these. Severus and Hellion made for the counter.

Severus swiftly handed over a tiny gold key to Hellion and stood off to the side, allowing Hellion room to approach the goblin there. Hellion straightened his back, cleared his throat, and said, "Excuse me? I'm here to get into me bank… or, er, wha'ver. To get me money."

"Do you have your key, sir?" the goblin asked.

Hellion presented it, and the goblin examined it closely with an air of suspicion. Hellion sent Severus a questioning look, and Severus raised his shoulder ever so slightly in a shrug.

"Very well," the goblin accepted, handing Hellion back the key. "I will have someone take you down to your vault. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. He led them through one of the many doors, and Hellion was surprised, having expected just more marble. Instead, they were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward, and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in, and as soon as the cart took off, Hellion flailed, gripping onto the side, unprepared for the speed. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard Severus snort again.

At first, they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Hellion tried to remember—left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left—but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, too, because Griphook sure as hell wasn't steering it.

Hellion's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but he kept them wide open. Once, he thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see what it was, but he wasn't fast enough. They plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge icicle-shaped formations hung off the high ceilings and shot straight up from the ground.

When the cart finally came to a stop, Hellion was almost thrown forward, and he had to stumble out of the cart and do a couple of turns, he was so dizzy. Severus, however, didn't have a hair out of place. He was smirking at Hellion, which just made Hellion scowl in return.

Griphook asked for his key then unlocked a big vault door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Hellion's jaw dropped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze ones too. Griphook waved the key toward him, trying to get Hellion to take it back, and Hellion did so absentmindedly, not taking his wide eyes off the treasure. It took a moment, but then he was blinking at Severus.

"This can't be mine."

Severus merely quirked a brow.

"Is it? This is mine?'

Severus inclined his head. "Yes. It's all yours."

Hellion blinked again. "Wow," he breathed, looking back inside the vault. "I mean, I knew me parents were famous or somethin', but I didn't know this! Were they really celebrities or somethin'?"

When he didn't get an immediate answer, he looked back over to see Severus frowning deeply at him.

"Wha'?"

Severus slowly shook his head, then his expression cleared, and he straightened. "The gold coins are called galleons, the silver are sickles, and the bronze are knuts. There are seventeen sickles to a galleon and twenty-nine knuts to a sickle."

Hellion chuckled derisively, quickly doing the math in his ever-money-conscious brain. "Tha's four-hundred-ninety-three knuts to a galleon."

Severus looked briefly surprised but then nodded. "Yes, it is."

"Tha's not very sensible, tha', is it? How many galleons to a pound?"

"Actually," Severus informed him, "it's how many pounds to a galleon. One galleon is about five quid."

Hellion was pretty sure if his eyes got even bigger, they were going to pop out of his head. He turned to gape once more at the mounds of gold, there being too many coins to count. After a moment, Severus held out a leather pouch to him.

"Use this. It should hold up to about one thousand galleons, but you shouldn't need any more than five hundred to get you through your first year."

Hellion frowned. "Twenty-five hundred pounds?"

"Yes," Severus sighed, clearly losing patience. "I wager you'll be spending at least a thousand of those pounds today."

Hellion grimaced. That was a lot of money just to blow on him. Feeling as though Severus wouldn't appreciate his self-pity, he took the pouch and turned his back on the man.

He carefully tucked his key away into his pocket, already deciding he needed to find a secret and secure hiding place for it, then scooped up a few hundred galleons, a few handfuls of sickles, and a couple of handfuls of knuts. He thought of his friends, of everyone at the shelter, and felt hideous guilt hit his stomach. Suddenly, this crazy dream became very real.

Feigning casualty as they made their way back to the cart, Hellion asked the goblin, "So, wha'cha hours? Are there only certain times I can come to me vault, or is it like an all-access thing?"

"If it's an emergency, you may owl us to be let into your vault. Otherwise, eight hundred to eighteen hundred."

Hellion nodded, shrugging without asking any follow-ups because he didn't miss the suspicious look from Severus, before they took off for another wild ride. He figured he would ask someone else later about how to exchange wizard currency back to normal ones.

Once blinking out into the bright sunlight of day again, Hellion immediately asked Severus, "Wha' d'the goblin mean, 'owl' 'em?"

"Unlike the muggle post, we use owls to send our mail."

"Muggle? And like wha' 'em used to do, with pigeons?" he asked, thinking about the owls that had followed him on and off for weeks, parchment clutched in their beaks.

"Yes, and yes, muggle is the term we use for non-magical people. Likewise, witches and wizards, like your mother, who come from muggle families are known as muggleborns, and those born within a wizarding family who aren't magical are called squibs."

"D'you lot got a different name for everythin'?"

"No," Severus sighed, "and I assuming now the shock of this all has worn off and you have a million questions."

"You bet," Hellion smirked, amused to be getting on the man's nerves.

"I suppose there is quite a lot you don't know since your relatives didn't deem it worth their time to inform you of who you really are. May we please shop while you ask your ever-so-important questions…"

"Deal!"

First, they went to buy him more clothes and some of those silly robes Spooks wore. He wasn't sure about the amounts of what for what he should have when it came to clothes, so he let Severus decide those things while he asked about Hogwarts.

He learned that Hogwarts was far away, and a castle. He learned about the four Houses (Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw), the House Cup, the Quidditch Cup, then what Quidditch was, that each House had a Quidditch team; that yes, it really, really was played by flying on brooms (Hellion had the seamstress confirm because he wholeheartedly believed Severus was taking a mickey), and then learned that no, there wasn't a mistake, first-years were not allowed a broom, just like his letter said.

Then Severus called for some odd-looking creature, short with huge eyes and huger ears, that magically appeared loudly out of thin air, and the man had it take his new things up to a room already booked at the Leaky Cauldron, the pub they came in through to get to Diagon Alley. Hellion proceeded to learn that the creature was a house-elf, learned what a house-elf was, learned some of what house-elves could do, learned about their servitude, then was told curtly that Hogwarts had hundreds of house-elves, so perhaps save more questions for them.

Next, they set off to an apothecary where Hellion learned that potions were real, that Potions would be one of his classes, some of what his other classes would be, and then when a store clerk recognised who Hellion was with, that Severus Snape would be his Potions professor.

"Why didn't you say anythin'?" Hellion pouted.

"Because I am not here in my capacity as your professor. I'm here in my capacity as a Hogwarts staff member to make sure my student is safe, has everything he needs for school, and will have a proper and healthy acclimation to the wizarding world."

Hellion smirked at him. "If you ain't _my_ professor, then why do I gotta be _your_ student."

Severus glared, told him to shut up, then proceeded to protest for five minutes while Hellion tried to take full advantage of having his Potions professor help him buy ingredients and supplies. Severus was less than helpful in that department, and they soon left the apothecary with a grumbling Hellion and a satisfied looking Severus.

They then went to a few different stores to grab other supplies for his other classes, such as a telescope that he was sincerely afraid he was going to break at one point. With each shop, Severus would call for the house-elf, and Hellion gave up trying to thank the creature for its help after the first time he tried and received a loud, heart-warm declaration of gratitude in return.

Severus wouldn't let him in some of the shops, proclaiming that Hellion had plenty of time to explore in the week he would be staying at the Leaky Cauldron, and soon all that was left were his books and wand.

The bookstore officially stopped Hellion's continuous string of questions because Severus began steering him to books that could answer him instead. Hellion ended up with all his school books with extra reading material for each subject, a book on Hogwarts itself, a book on magical theory, a book on Quidditch, and several books on magical healing.

When Hellion put the healing ones down on the counter, Severus frowned, and as soon as the clerk was busy ringing them up, Severus stepped closer to him and said very quietly, "Another thing, Hellion, you aren't allowed to use magic outside of school."

Hellion blinked then outraged, "Why not?!"

"It's dangerous. There's the Law of Secrecy, too, and there's the fact that you have no idea what you're doing. You aren't allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts until you're seventeen."

"Tha's stupid," Hellion complained. "And wha' Law of Secrecy?"

This led Hellion to getting several books on wizarding law and government, and he spent the walk to get his wand reading over this 'Trace' he had on him, trying to figure out a way around that. He already had been, apparently, for going on four years, but now that he was in the wizarding world, immersed with the Spooks, would he be able to still?

Severus gave him a knowing smirk as he held open the door to the next shop and mumbled as Hellion past, "At least you're searching for a plan to get away with doing magic instead of just blatantly ignoring the law and doing what you want."

Hellion clipped the book shut and handed it over for the man to hold. He could tell they were in the wand shop, and he was becoming more interested in how this was going to go. "I always do wha'ver I want, and I wanna keep doin' wha' I want, so I gotta find a way to do wha' I want whenever I want, don't I?"

Severus shook his head, looking completely torn between amused and annoyed. Hellion had to admit, that didn't seem like an easy expression to hold.

Chuckling to himself, he turned to focus around him.

A bell had tinkled somewhere in the depths of the shop when they had entered. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that went ignored by both of them. Hellion felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in there seemed to tingle with some secret magic. It made him want to go back to the bookstore and get a few books on wandmaking.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Hellion jumped, and he could have sworn Severus did, too, but when he glanced at him, he looked as calm and composed as ever.

An old man came to stand in front of them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Watcha," Hellion nodded to him. "I'm needin' a wand."

"Ah yes," the man said. "Yes, yes, I thought I'd be seeing you soon, Harry Potter." Hellion clenched his jaw, going tense, as the old man's words were clearly not a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long; swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

The man—Mr Ollivander, he thought he remembered Severus saying his name was—moved closer to Hellion. Hellion immediately took several steps back, his hand dipping into his pocket to grip his switchblade.

Ollivander's lips twerked, as though amused. "Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it—it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Hellion frowned, interested in spite himself, but Ollivander was still approaching Hellion, and Hellion would be damned if he let some creepy old man in his personal space.

"And that's where…"

Ollivander lifted his hand as though he was going to touch Hellion's lightning scar on his forehead. Hellion jerked his head back, and he was just about to pull his switchblade out and tell the man to back off when a strong hand wrapped around his wrist, stopping him. Hellion struggled against Severus for a moment and was able to break free and scuttle away from both of them, knife still safely in his pocket.

"Don't you dare touch me," he growled to the old man. "I just came for me wand. If tha's somethin' you can't do while keepin' your hands to yourself, then I'm out."

"Mr Ollivander," Severus said smoothly over Ollivander's wide-eyed shock at Hellion's attitude, "if you would be so kind."

"Yes, yes," Ollivander jumped a little. He cleared his throat and said, "Well now—Mr Potter. Let me see." He pulled out a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"I'm right-handed if tha's wha' you mean, and you ain't touchin' me," Hellion spat, nodding to the tape measure.

"I believe the tape measure can work by itself," Severus suggested, looking pointedly at Ollivander.

Ollivander obediently let go of the thing where it hovered in the air and instructed Hellion to hold out his right arm. The tape measure then, all on its own, started measuring Hellion from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As it measured, Ollivander studied the readings at a safe distance. Hellion was still itching to go for his knife, and if the stern look Severus was giving him said anything, the professor knew it, too, and was telling him no.

"Every Ollivander wand has a core," Ollivander started telling him, "of a powerful magical substance, Mr Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, and phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Hellion was frowning at the man still, now wanting to go back to the bookstore to get books on wandmaking _and_ magical animals. It took him a moment to realise that the tape measure was now measuring between his nostrils, but once he did, Hellion began swatting at it, hand dipping back in his pocket to curl around his knife.

"That will do," Ollivander nodded, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr Potter. Try this one," he pulled a box from one of the shelves. "Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

Hellion took the wand slowly and, feeling rather ridiculous, waved it around a bit. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once. It caused Hellion to jump again, and this time he did pull out his knife, only he quickly tossed it to his left hand. He didn't open it, just wanted access to it if he was going to be using his right hand to wave sticks. Severus raised an eyebrow at the action but otherwise didn't intervene.

Ollivander continued on as if oblivious, and probably was. "Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try-"

Hellion tried—but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Ollivander.

"No, no—here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Hellion did. Again, and again, slowly getting used to Ollivander's snatches. He had no idea what Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere—I wonder now—yes, why not—unusual combination—holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Hellion took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. Quirking a brow, he raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air, and a stream of green and silver sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls.

"Oh, bravo!" Ollivander cried. "Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well… how curious… how very curious…" He put Hellion's new wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious… curious…"

Slightly annoyed, Hellion asked slowly, "Wha's curious?"

Ollivander fixed Hellion with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand gave another feather—just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother—why, its brother gave you that scar."

Ollivander pointed bluntly to the scar on Hellion's forehead, and Hellion's mouth pulled tight as he squinted at the man.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember… I think we must expect great things from you, Mr Potter… After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things—terrible, yes, but great."

Hellion scowled and snatched the wand box out of his hands that time. "You must be going senile, you naff nutter. I got this scar in a car crash."

He then tossed some galleons at the bloke, spun on his heels, and walked out. Despite his exit, the heavy weight of dread followed him as he once again had some wanky Spook mention to him a He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Hellion underpaid for his wand and ended up owing Severus three galleons thanks to his dramatic exit. The man was very quiet, though, after leaving Ollivander's, and he didn't even protest when Hellion wanted to go back to the bookstore for those extra books.

When they were finished, it was past lunch, but Hellion didn't mind. He was only able to eat small, preferably liquid things at the moment due to lack of food recently. All this money, though, and he was bound to be back up to solid, sturdy food by the time this school thing rolled around.

He knew Severus could tell Hellion was trying to get rid of him, so he placated the suspicious professor by agreeing to have dinner with him, standing rather lamely behind the lie that he wanted to nap and to look over his new things for the afternoon. He watched the man leave and followed his progress out into 'muggle London' from his window at the inn/pub. He then waited a good twenty minutes to be sure he was gone before heading off back into Diagon Alley and to Gringotts.

"I need back in me vault," Hellion said without preamble, key ready to hand over. It only took a moment, then a different goblin named Rawkins took him on the dizzying ride down.

He had bought a money bag of his own earlier, giving Severus' his back, and he made sure to get one that could hold quite a lot, up to two thousand galleons. He didn't take that much, but he did take out enough to be a few thousand pounds, then he easily was able to exchange it for normal cash back at the front counter.

At one point while waiting, he thought he saw Severus being led out of one of the doors, but when he looked again, Severus was nowhere to be found. He supposed he was just a little paranoid. He was surrounded by goblins and Spooks, after all.

Feeling excited and elated, Hellion didn't waste any time. He booked it back to muggle London, took a bus to the shelter, made a beeline right to the offices, and donated most of the money.

Shelia, the woman who managed the shelter, couldn't believe it.

"Hellion!" she originally scolded. "Where did you get this?!"

"Me parents," Hellion grinned widely. At Sheila's questioning look he explained, "Me parents, when they were my age, went to some fancy boarding school. Apparently, I've been on the list since birth. It took the school a while to track me down, but they did. Me parents had left me some money for it as well. I'm leaving next week!"

Sheila squealed, she was so excited for him. He promised to be back to say goodbye to her and the rest properly before he left, then quickly took the bus to the library.

This was what he was most excited about. He wanted to unload the majority of his cash first, yes, which was why he went to the shelter, but the library was his most favourite place in the entire world.

He began ducking in there after about six months being on the streets. It was becoming scorching hot outside, and the library was nice and cool. He would come in the mornings and stay until they closed. He was hardly the only one who did this, but he was friendly with the clerks and did his best to always make sure he cleaned up after himself. Sometimes he would get really bored and help the librarians organise books, and then he got to be friends with a few of them. They were the ones who continued to teach him how to read, encouraging him to teach himself if he wasn't going to go to school, and always made sure he checked in, even got him set up in a programme where he got his reading glasses. They would have called the authorities on him a long time ago, but he begged them not to, that he was fine, honest.

Which was also why he had become an expert at hiding injuries if he had any and would stay away for a while if he got too thin.

With a wide grin still plastered on his face, Hellion hurried past the quiet shelves until he got to the administration area of the large, domed library.

"Faye, Darlene!" he whispered-called when he saw them. "I have a present for you!"

"Is that so?" Darlene smiled at him. She was by a trolley, loading on books. Faye was at a desk, filling out library card request.

"Yeah," he chuckled, then threw down a few hundred pounds on Faye's desk.

Faye blinked, then laughed, picking up the money. "Hellion, where did you get this?"

Leaving out all things magical, Hellion told them what had happened. Soon, Jen, Tracey, and Smithy came up to listen to his story, too, and by the end, they were hugging him one by one.

"I'm so glad for you, Hellion. You really needed this break."

"Aren't you glad we made you continue learning now?"

"We're so happy for you! Oh, this is going to be so good!"

"I'm going to miss you, though," Hellion told them seriously when the last of the hugs were handed out.

"We'll miss you, too, sugar, but it'll be a good miss," Darlene smiled.

"Yes," Tracey agreed. "We'll want to hear all about it. Do write to us, will you?"

"Of course," Hellion laughed. "I'll take pictures too."

"Ooh, that'd be lovely," Jen said.

Hellion stayed for a couple of hours, enjoying their company and occasionally helping them put up books. Then he took three buses to come to the edge of Edmonton, one of the worse spots in London.

"Hey, Rufus," he greeted the old man who had set up a tent down an alley. A few others were there, lighting fires in some empty barrels scattered around. "How're you feelin'?"

"Much better now's 'em hangover's gone," Rufus grinned. "Look at you, a proper kid now."

Hellion looked down at his new clothes and snorted. "Hardly. You've got me stuff?"

Rufus nodded and shifted where he sat to pull a backpack out from behind him. Hellion had given it to Rufus the night before to hide when he realised a new Spook was wandering around where he was. Hellion nodded to him, and though Rufus was his friend, still checked inside to make sure his things weren't stolen. Only a few food packs were missing, and thankfully, his glasses were still there. Prescription glasses were like gold around those parts.

"Thanks, Rufus," Hellion smiled, grateful. "Listen… I have some news…"

Hellion then proceeded to spend the rest of the daylight wandering around Edmonton carefully, searching out those he knew and letting them know he was leaving London week next, and siphoning off the rest of his muggle cash little by little. He knew most of it would go toward alcohol and drugs, but some of it would be used for food, clothes, and other essentials. If only a little good came from the abundance, Hellion would be happy.

Loving the feeling of giving, Hellion began taking buses back to where he now knew the Leaky Cauldron would be. He got on the last bus, got comfortable in his seat, and the bus was just taking off when someone sat beside him.

Glaring over, Hellion was briefly surprised to find Severus.

"You really think it wise, letting all those lags know you're well-off now."

"There aren't all lags," Hellion bit out, "and they don't know. They just know I'm goin' off to school and think I was handin' out wha' was leftover given to me for me school things."

"Yes, but you told the woman at the shelter the truth."

Hellion crossed his arms. "Have you been followin' me this whole time?"

"I'm surprised you didn't notice," Severus smirked.

"No, you ain't," Hellion snapped. "You used magic to do it, didn't you?"

"I, unlike you, am well over the age limit. I can do magic whenever I like."

"Bully on you. If you were just gonna follow me anyway, why make dinner plans?"

Severus' smugness disappeared at that, and he sighed. "We have some things to discuss."

"Like wha'?"

"Let us wait until we arrive, will you?"

The two bickered just like that for the ten minutes it took to get to the Leaky (Hellion decided to start calling the pub that purely because when he did, Severus made a face), and they were able to sequester a small table in a corner, a good distance from anyone else. They placed their orders, and Severus pulled out his wand and did some funny movements.

Hellion chuckled. "Wha' was tha'?"

"A privacy charm," Severus answered, obviously annoyed Hellion had laughed at him. "I want to be sure no one can overhear us."

Hellion straightened at that, not liking the idea the other people around couldn't hear him if he needed to yell for help. "Excuse you, who said I wanted tha'?"

Severus tilted his head before saying, "I assume once the topic of the discussion is revealed, you'll agree completely, but I suppose, I should have asked."

"Yeah," Hellion agreed, feeling prickly. "So un-charm us or wha'ver."

"Of course," Severus sneered back, "but before I do, I wish to discuss with you your parents and the truth about how they died, as I am mostly confident you don't actually know the truth." There was a heavy pause, then, "Still want me to take the charms down?"

Hellion gulped and shook his head.

Severus nodded then took a deep breath. "Well… never in a million years did I ever think I would be the person to have to tell you this, and I've tried thinking all day of a way around it. I really have. But chances are, you'll hear it staying here anyway, and that's no way to be informed… You said you got your scar in a car crash, correct?"

Hellion made sure his face was completely blank and nodded. "The car crash that killed me parents."

"That's what I was afraid you thought," Severus sighed, and suddenly, the man looked much older, as though he had just aged ten years there in front of Hellion's eyes. "Pot-… Hellion… Your parents didn't die from some car crash."

Underneath the table, Hellion curled his hands into fists, his stomach sinking.

"Your parents were killed by the Dark Lord, otherwise known as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."


	3. The Dark Lord and Trouble

"They were murdered?"

Severus inclined his head slightly in a solemn nod.

Hellion felt numb. He blinked then asked flatly, "How?"

"It's called the Killing Curse. In our world, there are three Unforgivable Curses, as any of them will send the caster straight to wizarding prison. There's one that allows the caster complete control of someone else, one that tortures, and one that kills. The Dark Lord used the Killing Curse on both your parents, on Halloween in 1981."

"He in prison? This Dark Lord?"

Severus shook his head. "As far as anyone can tell, he's dead."

"But nobody knows for sure?"

Again, Severus shook his head.

"How? Why they think he dead?"

At that moment, a bustling waitress came up to set their drinks down along with some chips. Hellion had no appetite, but he was grateful for the tea.

When the waitress was gone, Severus spoke softly.

"You happened, actually. That's why the wizarding world is so in awe of you and your parents. After the Dark Lord killed your parents, he tried to kill you. Something went wrong though. Half your house was destroyed, the Dark Lord disappeared, and you were left alive with nothing but a scar."

"Literally," Hellion said emotionlessly, staring at the table. "Why me? Why didn't tha' happen for one of me parents?"

"We can only guess. No one really knows for sure."

"I bet," Hellion snorted disbelievingly.

"There are theories. Mostly, people think you're going to become a powerful wizard. Most everyone assumes you're going to be a powerful Light wizard since you defeated the Dark Lord, a few others suspect you will replace him."

Hellion was silent a moment, then he looked up, meeting Severus' eyes. "Wha' d'you think?"

"I… think it was your mother."

Hellion didn't react, just waited for him to explain himself.

"Your mother died protecting you. That in and of itself can generate enough power from someone magical to protect the person they died to save. Your mother may have also done a few spells herself, knowing she was going to die for you, ensuring your protection. Your mother was very brave, wouldn't have been afraid to stare death down, especially for her son. She was very intelligent, too, however, and wouldn't have died so heedlessly. She would have had something up her sleeve."

Hellion's lips twitched at that, a smile threatening despite the sadness spreading in his chest. He wrapped his arms around his belly and bowed his head, hiding his face as he fought to compose himself. Severus was silent and let him take his time. By the time he looked back up, he was calm and had more questions.

"Who is this oh mighty Dark Snore, and why'd he do it?"

Severus had finished his own tea and was now sipping on a small glass of something rich in colour. "That's a longer explanation."

"You in a hurry?"

Severus shook his head, downed his drink, and signalled the man behind the bar for another.

Taking a breath, Severus said to the table, "The Dark Lord, whose original name was Tom Riddle, but he soon changed it to… Lord Voldemort, was a Dark Magic fanatic who craved power. He believed in old fashion ideals such as magical blood purity, and as he became more powerful, he began to gain a lot of support from other like-minded witches and wizards. Very quickly, he became a big threat and had aims on taking over the wizarding world in Britain, bigger plans for several other countries, with goals on annihilating en-masse those he didn't deem worthy, those he considered to be a blemish on the name wizard because of how they were born. He ruled with an unforgiving, merciless hand, and eventually, the wizarding world was at war.

"Your parents were some who fought against him. They were very good people. Much of the Ministry of Magic had been corrupted by the time you were born, so a new group formed to fight called the Order of the Phoenix. Your parents were a major part of that."

"So, tha's why?" Hellion raised an eyebrow. "Because me parents were against some wizarding… wha', Hitler?"

"…In a very simplified way, yes."

"And tha's why all 'em Spooks come smilin' up at me? Stop me in the street and try to touch me?" Hellion was getting angry, but he was at a loss on how to control his temper over something like this.

Severus looked up with some concern flashing in his eyes briefly before they were expressionless again. "They try to touch you?"

"Yes! God! And tha's why? Because me parents were decent human beings?!"

Severus looked around as Hellion's voice rose, some annoyance appearing in his features. This time, Hellion didn't find it amusing.

"Yeah, bet you're glad for 'em privacy charms now!"

"Calm down," Severus hissed.

"Why? How you'd react, huh?"

"If I was your age, like you, but I thought you could handle yourself better than the average eleven-year-old," the man scolded.

Hellion clicked his jaw shut and took a breath. "You dunno nothin' 'bout me," he glared. "I have every right to be angry tha' some twat killed me parents."

"Language!"

"Twat! Twat-twat-twat-twat-twat!"

"If you cannot hold a proper conversation, we are finished here!"

"Good. Later, Spook, have a good life!"

With that, Hellion stormed away.

Hellion had wanted to throw things and have a fit, but his new things were expensive, and so new and nice looking. He had seen some random witch fix something with her wand earlier that day and desperately wished he knew how to do it, too, him not being able to legally perform magic or not. He settled for taking a shower, then organising and reorganising his new things.

Touching them gave him mixed feelings because he had half a mind to run off and tell this new magical boarding school exactly where they could shove it. He was agreeing to go because he didn't see how he could pass up an opportunity like it, especially with seeing magic first hand. He had been able to do strange things since forever, a few times saving his life because of it, and when he really let himself believe what the greasy hair git was telling him, the relief that he wasn't… mutated or something was almost overwhelming.

Then he was told he could live somewhere, with a bed and everything, at some magical castle, where he could make friends his own age, probably find out more about his parents, somewhere where he was not only welcomed but wanted. The home his parents wanted for him. It stung his throat even thinking about it, being given this.

Eventually, he found himself in the centre of the inn's big bed with his knees drawn up to his chest, completely surrounded by his new things. His nails dug into his thighs as he clutched at himself in an attempt not to get too overwhelmed with emotion.

There came a knock on his door, and when he didn't answer, it opened just a crack.

"Sir?" said the man Hellion had learned was Tom, the inn's owner.

"Wha'?"

"I just wanted to let you know that the gentleman you were with paid for this room up to September 2nd."

Hellion's throat got tighter. "O-okay. Thanks."

The door shut softly, and Hellion buried his face in his hands.

Severus didn't need to do that. Hellion was rich now! Was it out of genuine generosity, or a bribe? He knew what his seasoned experience wanted to tell him, but he desperately wanted to believe it was something else.

He curled in on himself, lying down, and soon fell asleep that way, in a tight little ball, exhausted by his world being completely turned around.

_____________________

Every morning, Hellion had a ritual. First, before he even opened his eyes, he reminded himself where he fell asleep, where he should be, and listened to his body, making sure he was in the same state as when he fell asleep in. Then he would carefully open his eyes, and if he was where he should be and okay, he would give himself a subtle, little hug across his belly, count his money and what food he had, pack up, and start his day.

Waking up on a bed with plenty of money and having no need to pack was very unsettling for him.

He spent the morning just moving his things around, reading a little, not knowing what else to do, and avoided making any permanent decisions about his future; but then he brightened when he found his Hogwarts letter again and remembered he was allowed a pet.

He got dressed in some of his nicer clothes—and did he have a lot! He didn't think he ever had more than one pair of shoes before—made sure to lock his door and that his Gringotts key was safely tucked away on his person, then he bounded down the stairs to go to Diagon.

He barely made it halfway across the empty pub before a barmaid was hollering for him.

"Wha'?" he glared at her. "Me check's paid. I'm paid through the week, you can't kick me out!"

The woman looked unimpressed. "Your meals are paid too," she answered. "You didn't touch the breakfast we left outside your door, and we've got your lunch ready. Come and eat."

Hellion blinked, that being the last thing he expected. He thought the food in the hallway was for someone else. Pinned under her strict gaze, Hellion walked over to the bar and climbed up on one of the high stools.

"That's better," she smirked then called over her shoulder, "Get it off the tray and bring it here."

A butch looking man in an apron pushed his way out of the kitchen doors a minute later with a plate and glass of juice. As he sat them in front of Hellion, the woman passed over some eating irons, then they both got back to work, ignoring him. On his plate was a few slices of roast, green beans, smashed sweet potatoes, and an ear of corn.

His stomach tightened. That was a lot of food.

He went slowly, first with the sweet potatoes, then with the corn, taking care to really mash it with his teeth before swallowing, and he tried a few bites of roast. He became overly ambitious when that worked out well, but his stomach gave a warning lurch and fought against a bigger piece he swallowed.

"Uh huh," the barmaid said flatly, taking his plate away. Hellion didn't know she had been watching him. "That's what I thought. Get outta here, boy, and be back in time for supper. You're getting cream of wheat, no arguments—s'got iron."

"Yes, ma'am," Hellion mumbled, quickly taking the exit he was allowed with no plans of actually obeying.

Diagon was just as busy as the day before, and Hellion, grinning at so much new potential, flattened his hair over his scar.

He made a beeline for the both Eeylops Owl Emporium and Magical Menegerie. There were loads to choose from between the two shops. He asked one shop's matron a ton of questions, including how to send muggles owls (which apparently, there was a wizard owl post that switched its mail to muggle post for a knut) and decided it would be practical of him to get an owl if he decided to try out this whole wizard thing. One owl got his attention, its snowy white feathers slightly ruffled as it slept. The matron saw him smiling at the creature, and perhaps to make a sell, went and woke it up.

It was most displeased by that, but when Hellion smiled up at it, it puffed out its chest and hooted. Laughing, Hellion offered his arm, and twenty minutes later, he was leaving the shops with two cages, one for a sweet kitten he couldn't resist, and another for the snowy white owl who had apparently decided to go back to sleep once claimed.

Hellion tried calling out for the house-elf—Mokkey—like Severus had, but nothing happened. Not all that disheartened as it wasn't his house-elf anyway, he made his way back to the Leaky to stow his new friends and the supplies he got for them. He spent a while setting up toys, feeding bowls, and other things for the black Nebelung kitten to keep him busy while he was away and made sure all windows and the door were secure before leaving again.

By supper time, Hellion had gotten a magical trunk that should last him for years (and had HELLION engraved on it); a small magical, portable security box for his Gringotts key that looked like a small book of muggle poetry and was spelled to only open at his touch (or someone else's touch if he gave permission, which he didn't see himself doing any time soon); a couple of books about this last wizarding war (and then after that awful experience, a haircut where he asked the barber to cut and style his hair specifically to hide his scar—though there wasn't much he could do about the messiness of it); and finally a Nimbus racing broom (rules be damned and his new trunk would hide it anyway).

When he pushed his way back into the Leaky, business had certainly picked up for the night. He weaved his way through the crowd, not bothering with apologies if he bumped into anyone, and was abruptly halted when he reached the stairs that led up to the inn suites by a chastising looking Severus Snape.

Hellion attempted shoved the broom behind his back, knowing full well the handle of it stuck out a good two feet above his head.

"Hellion indeed," the man said in a deadly sounding voice.

Unfazed, Hellion answered, "You ain't me teach yet, Sevvy."

The man glared. "That is either 'sir' or 'Professor' to you, Mr _Potter_."

Hellion smirked and repeated, "You ain't me teach yet, Sevvy."

The professor glare turned into a glower. "Go put away your future contraband and come back down for dinner."

It was Hellion's turn to glare. "Or wha'?"

"Or I will be banging on your door and sending panicky house-elves into your room until you come down."

"Wha' if I don't wanna?"

Severus smirked. "Don't tell me after a full twenty-four hours, the Hellion hasn't cooled off enough to finish our conversation…"

Hellion straightened. "Are… are you serious?"

"Very," the man drawled, stepping around him and heading into the depths of the pub without looking back.

Smiling, Hellion sprinted up the stairs to his room. He tossed his haul onto his bed, asked the owl if she wanted out (having learned owls were far superior than most animals in intelligence than he thought) then opened her cage door and a window, scooped up his kitten, and headed back down.

He found Severus at the same small, two-person table they occupied the night before, and Hellion noticed the guarded, often suspicious man left the corner seat facing out into the pub empty for him. It made him pause since he thought Severus would take a similar spot at whatever table or place he picked. He clenched his jaw, took a deep breath through his nose, and told himself that this new world he had privy to was worth the chance of relaxing, tentatively trusting, and seeing where this went. For the night at least.

"Meet me kit," Hellion said in greeting as he sat, lifting up the small kitten to show him.

"Of course, you bought a pet," Severus replied sarcastically.

"Duh," Hellion rolled his eyes, gently cradling the doofer to his chest.

According to the state of his room, the kitten had played hard that day, so he wasn't surprised he was yawning now, wanting to curl up and sleep.

Hellion continued as he petted his new kitten, "And an owl for post, though I think she'll be a good conversationalist. She's very smart. The toff said 'em both are up on their shots - or potions - and things, but I got a bunch of flea and worm 'n stuff for 'em. I signed up for post, too, from the shop for when 'em things are due. Me owl's independent, so I didn't've to get much for her, but this little guy, I's got all he could need. He's a Nebelung, he is, and the woman told me he'll shed a lot, but groomin's easy, and they're intelligent too. She said he'd be affectionate to me, but he won't be very pro-stranger or pro-kid, and I figured, well, tha's me too anyway, innit? We've gotten on so far."

Hellion smiled up at Severus, whose face was completely cast-iron expressionless. That just made Hellion smile bigger.

"D'you think I should name 'im Sevvy? Got a nice ring to it, yeah?"

The professor's eyebrow twitched, but so did his lips. "If you name him that, so help me, in addition to confiscating your new broom, I will inform the school of you having _two_ pets when students are only allowed _one_."

Hellion had figured that by his letter but didn't care when he got the animals. He pulled his kitten closer to him, pouting. "Tha' ain't fair. How was I s'pose to know tha'? An owl can be a pet, sure, but they're also the only post for Spooks. Hardly seems right to punish a student for gettin' an owl too."

Severus was unwavering. "Hogwarts has hundreds of school owls anyone can use."

"Well…" Hellion began, "well… How was I to know tha'? You didn't tell me, did you? Not right then, is it, to make me and me pets suffer from your negligence. I got the creatures before you bothered to tell me, anyway, didn't I? Wha’ say you then?"

At this, Severus' lips actually did a semblance of a smile. "I'd say I'm beginning to know exactly which House you'll be sorted."

Hellion grinned, huffing a laugh. Settling his now sleeping kitten in his lap as he carefully adjusted to sitting cross-legged on the chair, he said, "Not 'em Ravenclaw chaps. Sound like right snoozers to me."

A waitress came up then to deposit several items to their table, and Hellion carefully hunched over some to hide the kitten, just in case.

Severus was delivered a fully plated meal of beef and some vegs along a pint and another small glass of rich coloured alcohol. Hellion was given full glasses of water and juice as well as a bowl of a dull white, clumpy-looking soup. He made a face at it.

"Cream of wheat," Severus said. "You need the iron. Eat."

Hellion made a much uglier face in Severus' direction but picked up a spoon nonetheless.

As they ate, Hellion told Severus of his adventures that day, not going into why he got his haircut or what books he had bought. He also didn't divulge the safe he bought for his bank key, but he did go on about Quidditch, or what he had managed to read so far and what he had overheard about the Irish Quidditch team's coach getting sacked only to be replaced by a South American ex-professional Quidditch Chaser. Apparently, it was a bit radical, but Hellion approved whole-heartedly just because of the scandal of it.

Severus gave sparing comments, much like the day before, only really saying anything if it was to correct Hellion or answer a question.

Once their dishes had been cleared away, and they both had refills of their beverages (this time Hellion getting muggle soda), Severus asked, "So, you didn't visit any of your friends today?"

Hellion shrugged. "No. I still got a few days to make up me mind wha' I wanna do, but I did find out how I can send letters and they get 'em muggle-like."

"I see," Severus said, obviously being careful. Hellion had both arms protectively around his kitten and looked up to watch the man. "You've told several people yesterday you are leaving for school, but now you aren't sure?"

Hellion shrugged slightly again. "It's one thing to go off to school. It's another to go off to school as a child of decorated war heroes."

Severus nodded slowly, looking at the table and taking a pull from his pint. "I apologise. I never meant to make you reconsider."

"To be honest, Sevvy, I never really made up me mind in the first place. I mean, I won't pass up havin' money and all these magic things. I wouldn't betray it, wha' with wizard law and also, y'know, privacy, but I never actually agreed to go to Hogwarts… I mean, I wanna go… A lot, I wanna go… If it's real, mind, I'm still not convinced this all ain't some drug-induced coma."

Hellion meant it as a light-hearted offer, but if Severus' face was anything to go by, he failed spectacularly.

"I don't do drugs," Hellion rolled his eyes.

"Then why in the world would a drug-induced coma be a possibility?" Severus said softly.

"Because this is life?" Hellion answered, a tad bitterly. "I've had weirder experiences being chloroform'd."

A look came over Severus' face that had Hellion stiffening and at lightning speed, reaching for his switchblade. Severus took a breath, though, and in a blink, was normal.

Severus took a very relaxed gulp of his pint then said, "I encourage you to experience Hogwarts yourself before you brush it away as some dream. Believing in it or the wizarding world doesn't make it real. It's real whether you believe in it or not. You have a chance to not just be a part of it, but to _be_ it. You have an opportunity here to learn how to bend science, physics, space, and even time to your will.

"Attending Hogwarts, you won't just learn a few spells and how to turn a teacup into a mouse. You can learn how to peacefully stop assaulters, turn any object around you into clothing, and produce water from nothing. You can even learn how to protect yourself with simply a flick of your wand, how to disappear from one place and reappear in another instantly, how to open any lock, and how to spell yourself away from the embodiment of despair and brokenness. I am well aware that you don't _have_ to go to Hogwarts. I do, however, hope you take this opportunity—despite whatever, ah… Spooks try to do. You and I both know you can handle yourself, that you can weather whatever storm, but I do hope you're smart enough to know that, even with what you have been through and what you would go through in school, whatever storms may come at your young age is nothing compared to the hurricanes when you're older. You can work hard now and be protected the rest of your life, or you can try to 'protect' yourself now and work hard the rest of your life. You will be safe there."

As Severus was giving his speech, Hellion began curling in on himself, ending with him cradling his sleeping kitten to his chest again.

Tightly and unwilling to admit Severus might be right, Hellion said, "You wanted to finish our conversation from last night. I won't yell this time, not with this guy," he nodded to his kitten without looking up. "Go ahead and tell me, so I have time to think. And please," he sneered though he wasn't looking at the man, "don't be one of 'em who think they know what I can and cannot handle."

There was a long pause, then Severus answered, "Only if you _promise_ to keep in mind what I said."

"I promise," Hellion readily swore, lifting his head to say it as he looked Severus in the eye.

Severus gave him a tight nod, then looked down at the table. Hellion looked back down at his kitten, the pub vibrating with laughter and chatter.

"This is quite difficult to discuss with a child, to be completely honest," Severus opened quietly.

"I bet," Hellion snorted. "Tell me everything."

"A purist, in the simplest definition, is someone in our community who believes that those who come from muggle families are inferior, to be put politely. The Dark Lord was one of them and used his position of power to spread purist ideals—"

"Actually, I take it back, and we skip to the par' 'bout me 'rents?"

Severus looked annoyed. "I think it's important for you to understand the depth and complications of this prejudice—"

"Were me parents 'em?"

Severus blinked. "Were they what?"

"Purist or wha'ever."

"No, they were the opposite. They fought against them—"

"Then tha's all I need to know 'bout purists."

Severus scowled. "It is unwise to dismiss something that caused hundreds of deaths, affecting thousands of lives, even still today."

Hellion shrugged. "I really just wanna know 'bout me parents."

Severus sighed. "Well, for starters, one of the main reasons why your parents were so against the Dark Lord and his followers— who called themselves Death Eaters by the way—"

Hellion interrupted him again with a loud snort then a barked laughed. "Wait, are ya serious?"

Severus merely raised a questioning brow.

" _Death Eaters?_ " Hellion giggled. "They sound more like a southside gang. And these are the followers of this 'big, bad Dark Snore', are you for real?"

Severus' lips quirked again. He said seriously, however, "Other people do not take them nor their name so lightly. The Dark Lord and his followers caused so much death and destruction, most people don't dare speak his name."

"Which one?"

"Voldemort."

Hellion rolled his eyes. "Voldedork."

"Careful," Severus warned. "If the wrong people catch you being so disrespectful… you could be in for a world of trouble."

Hellion sighed, petting his kitten. "Sevvy, if there's one thing I do know, it's tha' trouble is around every corner. Life's ain't 'bout avoidin' trouble— it's 'bout _surviving_ trouble."

Severus didn't answer him right away, and Hellion took the time to coo at the kitten who was purring warmly in his hand.

"Bet you'll be loads of trouble, huh? Tha's wha' I should name ya? Trouble. D'you like Trouble?"

"You can't name a cat 'Trouble'," Severus sniffed, thus securing the cat's name.

"Trouble it is then!" he beamed.

Severus rolled his eyes. "I'm afraid you're not really understanding the severity of evil these people had done."

Hellion regarded him sombrely. "Unless you lyin' to me 'bout how me parents died, then you ain't got no idea how serious I am."

Because he was serious. Blood-thirsty serious. He wanted to know everything that happened because he wanted to know that either the bastard was dead, or perhaps available for Hellion to make him dead. Hellion wasn't naturally blood-thirsty, usually preferred to dissuade violence, and he would have thought he was properly warned off revenge. But the more the fact that his parents were murdered settled into his bones, the more his vision threatened to turn red.

Some of it must have shown in his face because Severus looked briefly surprised, then mollified, then smug. "Definitely know which House, I think."

Hellion gave him a grin. "So, go on. Tell me 'bout 'em."

Severus didn't have much information to give him about his parents beside his father apparently being an arrogant tosser, which just made Hellion grin more, and his mother having a particular affinity to Potions. They were married shortly after finishing at Hogwarts, and by the sounds of it, had joined this Order immediately. Severus made the Order sound like a necessary but especially annoying organisation, and when he began going on about politics, Hellion started to tune him out. Severus only really kept his attention when he described Lily Potter has being muggleborn and so, therefore, some of the prejudices she had to endure. Hellion knew his mother was white as well, so if his father had any kind of skin like Hellion did, Hellion imagined he suffered some prejudices as well, unless those didn't exist in this new world. In the end, Severus insisted on going into detail about the issues between wizards and muggles, and Hellion just about fell asleep.

After a while, Severus tapped sharply on the table, getting his attention.

"Are you even listening?" he hissed.

"No," Hellion replied bluntly. "So, wha' kind of classes me dad like?"

Severus gave a very long, put-upon sigh, pulling out a pocket watch to look at the time. He mumbled, "Everyone, literally _everyone_ else would be eager to discuss James Potter, but you want _me…_ Ridiculous."

Hellion laughed. "Hey, point me to one of 'em friends, and I'll bug 'em instead."

Hellion's good spirit stilled some at the look Severus gave him. Severus seemed to take a deep breath then said evenly, "There aren't many of them left, and I'm afraid I wouldn't have a clue where to point you."

"A lot people died in this war, huh?"

Severus nodded.

"Okay," Hellion accepted. "Okay. Wha' you want me knowin', Sevvy?"

Severus crossed his arms on the table and leaned forward. "I want you to know that you are famous, Hellion. The Boy Who Lived. Nearly everyone will have opinions about you and everything you do. There are rumours about you, about whom you will become, and other people will try to influence you one way or another. The war may be over currently, but believe you me, there are still sides. Nothing was ever resolved."

Hellion gulped. "Influence me, eh?" He huffed. "They can try."

Severus studied Hellion's face then nodded, clearly satisfied. "There's one more matter, then I must be off."

Hellion groaned. "Gee, Sevvy, wha' now?"

"This," Severus answered, pulling out what looked like a ticket. A second later, Severus confirmed, "This is your ticket to the Hogwarts Express, to get to school."

Hellion took it, interested. For a magic ticket to a magic train to take him to a magic castle, it was rather boring looking. "Where d'I go?"

"King's Cross."

Hellion's head jerked up, and he lifted a brow. "Tha's muggle."

"Indeed it is. I believe you'll find a clue on the ticket."

Hellion looked back at the ticket, actually reading it this time. He snorted. "There ain't no 9¾ at King's Cross."

"Precisely. The muggle entrance to the Hogwarts express is the barrier between platforms nine and ten. It will look like any another barrier, but since you're magic, you'll be able to walk through it to get to the correct platform."

"Walk… through it…?"

Hellion was doubtful. He was used to King's Cross, slept there many times, and he was well aware of what the barrier between the platforms looked like. Which was to say, very, very sturdy with very real bricks.

"Yes," Severus answered simply. "It is charmed as well, to prevent muggles from really noticing it nor the people who disappear through it."

"Tha' doesn't sound right."

"And yet it is."

Hellion eyed him. "If you're trickin' me…"

Severus looked up at the ceiling as though praying for patience. "Idiot child. This isn't a trick. I suppose you want some grander, but see, we do try to be subtle around muggles."

"Uh-huh," Hellion said, deciding he would just figure it out when he got there. "Well, thanks, Sevvy."

Severus' eye twitched. " _Stop_ addressing me with that word. And please do remember that at Hogwarts, you will only address me as 'sir' or 'Professor Snape'."

Hellion merely grinned.


	4. To Hogwarts

Hellion's last few days at the Leaky went peacefully. Hellion felt more rested than he had in a very long time, and just as he predicted, his stomach quickly recovered from its fast and greedily took whatever Hellion fed it.

Hellion spent half the time in Diagon, soaking up what he could, then the other half in his room reading. He also finally picked a name for his white owl though it took a few days. He named her Serenity, to be the opposite of his black cat Trouble. 

He also did make sure to stop by the shelter to say goodbye, spent several hours in the library taking the librarians pictures with one of the few disposable cameras he had bought, and sought out as many friends as he could. He was pleased that word had already spread about him going off to school, so the few he hadn't been able to tell personally would hear it through the grapevine and not worry about him missing (the same grapevine Hellion used to make sure they were okay since he couldn't find them).

Despite saying goodbye, Hellion didn't really make up his mind that he was going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry until the morning of September 1 st . He woke early, and because he was feeling excited and nervous, he decided to focus on his scepticism of how to get onto Platform 9¾. He decided to leave early and stake out the joint.

It was difficult getting his trunk and two animal carriers on the bus. Trouble seemed a bit agitated by the experience, but Serenity looked determined to remain dignified.

Hellion caught a man eyeing Serenity and barked, "Wha' you lookin' at?"

"It's an owl," the man said dumbly.

"Yeah," Hellion snapped, "but not just any ol' owl. This here is a rare one. Priceless, her—special."

"Really?" the man frowned doubtfully.

"Yes. Me dad's a scientist, see, he knows these things. This here is a er… Glisterin'… er, Glisterin' Glowstone Nether Owl," he finished confidently, remembering random bits of potion ingredients' names. He couldn't help but read up on Potions what with Severus being the Potions professor and that his mother had liked Potions.

"Ooh," a couple of girls cooed, overhearing him.

"What's her name?" one of them asked.

"Serenity," Hellion smiled. "Named her meself."

The girls elbowed the man out of the way to give Serenity attention, and Hellion grinned as Serenity preened. Trouble, however, wasn't having any of it and hissed when one of the girls tried to stick her finger through his carrier. Hellion didn't apologise for him, just hid his smirk.

Traffic, as it turned out, had apparently declared war on public transportation with the sole goal a ruining Hellion's mood. With every stop, he pushed himself further up the bus, and he watched, scowling, as time continued to tick on. As ten-thirty rolled around, the bus stopped completely.

"Oi!" Hellion bellowed. "Wha'cha hold up?"

"Sit down," an old man grumbled.

"Yo, driver!" Hellion continued unperturbed. "Wha' we stop for?"

"Calm down," a man in a tailored suit ordered as the wobbly voice of the driver called out, "Traffic!"

"What's going on?" someone else called, Hellion effectively giving the other restless, impatient passengers confidence to speak up.

"Did we break down?" asked another.

Hellion frowned at a map posted on one of the windows; he was a little turned around and not sure how far they were from the station. He knew London like the back of his hand, but he could admit some of his nerves were getting the better of him.

"Watcha," Hellion addressed the suited man. "How far is King's Cross?"

The man, reading a paper, sighed and check his watch as though it would tell him. "Dunno."

"Dunno," repeated Hellion, rolling his eyes. "How's far King's Cross?" he then hollered out, hoping someone would answer.

"Few blocks," replied a man in a dark jumper. "East."

"Thanks," Hellion smiled, then grabbing his trunk and pets, fought his way to a door a ways down and forced it open, heedless of the protests from a few people and the driver himself. He fumbled out of the bus, ignored the honking cars, and weaved his way across the street to the sidewalk before taking off east.

By the time he reached the train station, he was sweated through, panting, and vowing to himself that the Shrinking Charm would be the first he learned. He didn't bother with a trolley, only having a few minutes, and broke out into a run, burrowing down the platforms and shouting at others to get out of his way.

Once he was reaching the barrier between nine and ten, he could see there was a crowd of redheaded people already there. As he ran closer, he watched as one, then two, then three redheads disappeared.

"Bloody riot!" he panted as he slid next to the obvious family. "He really wasn't takin' a mickey!"

He had caused the redheaded plump woman, gangling boy, and small girl to jump.

"Sorry," he said, clutching a stitch in his side but grinning at them. "Chap told me 'ow to ge' on the platform, but he's a kinda bloke with a laugh up his sleeve."

The woman chuckled. "That's quite alright, dear. First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new too," she pointed at the boy.

"Watcha," Hellion nodded to him. He turned back to the woman "So, we really just… walk through brick?"

"Yes, dear," the woman grinned. "Not to worry. All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron."

"Thanks," he grinned at her. "And if I die, I'll blame you, yeah?"

The woman laughed this time, herding her two children off to the side. "Good luck, dearie. Have a good term."

"Will do!"

He saluted the family, readjusted his grip on his things and the strap of his cat carrier, stared down the barrier, and ran.

Hellion couldn't help but close his eyes as the barrier came hurtling closer, telling himself firmly he wasn't going to crash, and then suddenly, sound shifted to a noise of an entirely different crowd than just before, and he stopped and opened his eyes.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with obvious Spooks. A sign overhead said  _ Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock _ . Hellion looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words  _ Platform Nine and Three-Quarters _ on it. He grinned.

"Fuck me, it works."

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every colour wound here and there between their legs. He briefly thought about letting Trouble out, but he was terrified of losing him. Owls also hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Hellion pulled his trunk along down the platform in search of an empty one. He passed a round-faced boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again."

"Oh,  _ Neville _ ," he heard the old woman sigh, and he sniggered.

A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.

"Give us a look, Lee, go on."

The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg. Hellion laughed.

Hellion passed on through the crowd until he found an empty compartment near the end of the train. He put Serenity inside first and set Trouble on the seat. Next, he scraped his trunk toward the train door, glad he thought to get one so scratch and damage-resistant. He tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise it high enough and twice he dropped it painfully on his foot, his muscles screaming at him from having dragged the doofer so far.

"Oh, don't you think you're as brigh' as a button," he complained to the thing.

"Want a hand?" someone asked closer than he was prepared for, and Hellion jumped back, dropping his trunk, hand in his pocket and around his knife.

There in front of him were two redheaded twins, one of them lifting up his hands, and both of them grinning.

"Sorry, mate," one chuckled. "Didn't mean to scare."

"Want a hand?" the other repeated.

Hellion quickly flattened his bangs, making sure his scar was covered but grinned back. "Yes, please. Gobby doofer's a dog's dinner."

With the twins' help, Hellion's trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

"Thanks," Hellion said, satisfied, lifting the hem of his t-shirt up to rub at his sweaty face.

"What's that?" one of the twins said suddenly, pointing to Hellion's forehead.

"Blimey," said the other. "Are you-"

"No," Hellion barked roughly, flatting his hair again. Then he said firmly, but friendlier, "I'm Hellion."

The twins blinked at him.

" _ Riiight _ ," one said, drawing out the word and lips quirking.

"Hell-we're-on," the other said, smirking and bouncing once on the balls of his feet. "Yep. No Harry Potter here."

"Harry Potter?" the twin asked the other. "Oh, see, I thought you were going to say he was Parry Hotter."

"Nah, Fred, that there's Tarry Hopper."

Hellion snorted, fighting a smile, but still said sternly, "Yeah. There ain't no Tarry Hopper here, go'it?"

"Got it," the twins said at the same time, winking at him.

Just then a voice came floating through the train's open door.

"Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, Mum!"

Flicking their noses conspiratorially, the twins took their leave.

Hellion chuckled after them, hoping he was pegging those two right, and took a seat next to Trouble by the window where, half-hidden, he could watch this red-haired family on the platform, the twins apparently belonging to the woman who helped him get through the barrier. As the mother took out her handkerchief, he realised he could hear them too.

"Ron, you've got something on your nose."

The youngest boy tried to jerk out of the way, but she grabbed him and began rubbing the end of his nose.

" _ Mum— _ geroof," he protested as he wriggled free.

"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" said one of the twins.

"Shut up," Ron mumbled.

"Where's Percy?" the mother asked.

"He's coming now."

A boy that was clearly the oldest came striding into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and Hellion noticed a shiny red-and-gold badge on his chest with the letter  _ P _ on it.

"Can't stay long, Mother," he said pompously, and Hellion snorted. "I'm up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves—"

"Oh, are you a  _ prefect _ , Percy?" one of the twins clearly mocked. "You should have said something, we had no idea."

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," the other joined.

"Once—"

"Or twice—"

"A minute—"

"All summer—"

"Oh, shut up," snapped Percy the Prefect.

"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" a twin asked, eyeing the Spook's robes.

"Because he's a  _ prefect _ ," the mother answered fondly. "Alright, dear, well, have a good term—send me an owl when you get there." She kissed Percy on the cheek, and he left with a smirk. Then she turned to the twins. "Now, you two—this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling you've—you've blown up a toilet or—"

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."

"Great idea though, thanks, Mum."

"It's  _ not funny. _ And look after Ron."

"Don't worry, ickly Ronniekinds is safe with us."

"Shut up," Ron said again. He was almost as tall as the twins, and his nose was still pink where his mother had rubbed it.

"Hey, Mum, guess what?" one of the twins said, dropping his voice. "Guess who we just met on the train?"

Hellion tensed, any good humour from watching them leaving him. He leaned back quickly so they couldn't see him looking.

"Who?"

" _ Harry Potter. _ "

The little girl's voice answered first, "Oh, Mum, can I go on the train and see him, Mum, oh please—"

"No, Ginny," a twin said. "He doesn't want anyone to know. He was hiding his scar."

"Yeah. He asked to go by Hellion."

"Poor  _ dear— _ I can't say I blame him," the mother said. "This would be his first year, wouldn't it? He must be ever so nervous."

"Didn't seem so nervous to me," a twin said. "Do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?"

Suddenly, the mother became very stern. "I forbid you to ask him, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though he needs reminding of that on his first day at school."

Hellion snorted once more, shaking his head as the twin answered, "Alright, keep your hair on."

A whistle blew, and Hellion got up, shut the door, and then carefully opened Trouble's carrier, coaxing the annoyed kitten out. Trust him, out of days to remember that could ruin his  _ first day of school! _ he thought sarcastically, the night Tom Voldedork Riddle attacked his family wasn't near the top of the list.

The train began to move, and Hellion started to wonder if he was making a mistake going to Hogwarts. He guessed it was understandable for the twins to tell their mother—she was their  _ parent _ after all, and family was family, right? Telling one's family when they met someone famous or whatever, that was normal. On the streets, it was a whole different story. Meeting someone who immediately said nobody saw whatever they saw, it was smartest to keep quiet. There was always a potential ally to make, or a favour to be owed, or blackmail to be used. Burning a potential bridge wasn't worth it—and snitching, well… snitches got stitches, didn't they? He could forgive them telling their family—if it didn't get spread around.

Finally getting Trouble to purr in his lap, he smirked. If it didn't get spread around, he could possibly count on the whole family not to snitch. That was always something to note.

If this whole thing became too much—if he did make a mistake—he would run away again. He was able to hide from the Trace before. Surely, he would be able to do it again.

The door of the compartment slid open, making him jump and Trouble to hiss. There stood the youngest redheaded boy.

"Sorry. Hi," the boy smiled slightly, clearly recognising Hellion from earlier. He pointed to the seat opposite him. "Is anyone sitting there? Everywhere else is full."

Slowly taking his hand out of his pocket where it had dived for his knife again, the other petting Trouble to calm him, Hellion shrugged. "Have at it."

The boy smiled again, and Hellion watched without helping as the boy stowed his own trunk. Then he sat, looked out the window a moment, then back at Hellion. He opened his mouth as though to speak, but then the door slid opened again.

It was the twins. "Hey, Ron," one of them said, "listen, we're going down the middle of the train—Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," Ron mumbled.

"Hellion," the other twin nodded to him. "Did we introduce ourselves? I'm Fred, this is George. And that there is our little brother, Ron. Well, see you later, then."

"Later," Hellion grinned back, giving them a wave. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them. Ron, however, was gaping at him.

Sighing, Hellion returned his attention to Trouble. The kitten was butting his head against Hellion's hand, trying to get Hellion to rub down his back, but every time Hellion did, the kitten would turn around abruptly to butt his head against his hand again.

"I'm Ron," the boy blurted bravely.

Hellion looked up at him through his lashes. The boy was a little blurry without his glasses, but Hellion could still make out his freckles. "Hellion," he said.

"Cute cat," Ron nodded to Trouble, shifting in his seat as though he didn't know what else to do.

Hellion smiled, hoping to relax the bloke. "His name's Trouble. And that there's me owl. She's Serenity."

"They're both yours?"

"Yeah, but I don't think we're actually allowed two pets. But I thought, hey, y'know, one's for post, so," he shrugged.

Ron sniggered. "True. All I've got is this doofer," he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat, grey rat, which was asleep. "Name's Scabbers, and he's useless. He hardly ever wakes up. Percy, my brother, got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff— I mean, I got Scabbers instead."

Ron's ears went pink, and he seemed to think he had said too much because he went back to staring out the window.

Knowing how Ron must be feeling, Hellion grinned. "I never could afford nothin' until a week ago. I've got  _ four _ pairs of shoes now. How weird is tha'?"

Ron blinked, surprised, then seemed to cheer up. "I've got two, but Mum knits us tons of socks. Some of them are thick enough to pass as shoes, let me tell you."

Hellion raised his eyebrows. "Really? Ooh, I'd like to get me some of 'em. Could've used tha' last winter."

"Right?" Ron grinned. "They're really warm. I wish she'd stick with those than the sweaters she gives at Christmas."

"It's brill she knits. I had a friend teach me how to sew once. I'm pretty lousy at it, but I can fix me clothes. Sewed a pair of shoes once, actually. Or tried. Tha' didn't quite work."

Ron laughed. "Didn't you go off to live with muggles? I reckon no one was around to magically fix them."

Hellion gave Ron a look, and Ron pinked again, clearly catching on to what he had just said.

"Sorry—not-… not that, well, not that you are anyone or anything."

Hellion sighed. "Relax. I heard your brothers tell you lot who I am. But please, call me Hellion. I don't much care for the Boy Who Lived shite."

Ron nodded enthusiastically, happy about being given a pass. "Have you really got—you know…" he gestured to his forehead.

"No, I don't know," Hellion warned carefully, "because I'm Hellion."

"Right," Ron nodded.

Wanting to get the subject off him, Hellion asked, "Are all your family Spo— er, wizards?"

"Er—yes, I think so," Ron answered. "I think Mum's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

"So you know loads of magic already?"

"Not really," Ron shrugged. "I mean, I know of some spells, but I've never been allowed to do them."

"Still, though. I mean, you got three wizard brothers."

"Five," Ron corrected, and for some reason, began to look gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left—Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks, and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat," he gestured to the sleeping creature.

Hellion frowned. "Your brother's old wand? Won't it not work right?"

"Dunno. Mum says it'd be fine."

That didn't sound fair to Hellion, but he didn't know what to say. The family didn't sound well-off by any means, and Hellion had a hard time just providing for himself—he couldn't imagine trying to provide for a whole family. So, instead, he just said, "Well, ain't nothin' says you gotta stay in their shadows. You do you, Ron."

Ron smiled.

While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep, and Trouble was just as enthralled at the scenery as Hellion. He hadn't been out of the city in years, and Ron laughed as Hellion made commentary and wondered out loud how awkward it must be to milk cows.

Around half-past twelve, there was a great clattering outside in the corridor before a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and asked, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Hellion had breakfast under the barmaid's watchful glare, but he was far from pasting an opportunity for more food. He leapt to his feet as he took in the many candies there.

"Woah, loads!" he said.

Ron's ears went pink again, and he mumbled that he had brought sandwiches. Hellion shrugged at him and went out into the corridor.

A week at Diagon had gotten Hellion used to wizarding food, but he was still curious at what he saw. There were Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other strange things. Not wanting to miss anything, he got some of everything and paid the woman eleven silver sickles and seven bronze knuts.

Ron stared as Hellion brought his haul back into the compartment and tipped them onto his seat. Trouble jumped on the lot, batting at some of the paper wrappings of a few candies.

"Hungry, are you?"

"Always," Hellion grinned, taking a big bite out of a pumpkin pasty. "As long as it ain't cream of wheat. I hate cream of wheat."

Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

Hellion perked up. "Corned beef? Yo, I'll swap you for one of 'em."

"You don't want this, it's all dry. She hasn't got much time," he added quickly, "you know, with the five of us."

"What did I just say? If it ain't cream of wheat." He held out a pasty. "Go on," he encouraged when the redhead looked at him disbelievingly.

Hellion would do almost anything for meat. Severus said there would be meals at Hogwarts, but in Hellion's experience, it was better to stock up just in case, and four sandwiches of meat could last him for days.

The boy relented, swapping the sandwiches for several cakes and candies. Hellion ate one sandwich, sharing with Trouble and offering some to Serenity who turned her nose up at it. Ron laughed, saying the bird had better taste than the other two, and Hellion stowed the rest away.

"What are these?" Hellion asked, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs. "They're not  _ really _ frogs, are they? The other day I had me some Burstin' Bubbles Bubble Gum, and let me tell you, I won't be doin' tha' again."

Ron snorted. "No, they're not real, but see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."

"Gesundheit?"

"Huh?"

"Wha'?"

"Oh," Ron shook his head, "of course, you wouldn't know—Chocolate Frogs have cards inside them, you know, to collect—famous witches or wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy."

"Really? How much is each card worth?"

"What do you mean?"

"Y'know, is it like a quid a card, or are some worth more because of the witch or wizard?"

"Quid? Oh, money? No, they aren't worth any money or anything. It's just for fun, y'know?"

Hellion frowned. "I guess." He unwrapped the Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. It showed a man's face. He wore half-moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard, and moustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore.

He turned it over and brought it close to his nose to read:

ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS

Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945 for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.

"Headmaster, huh?" Hellion mumbled, and when he turned the card back over, Dumbledore's face had disappeared. Used to Spooks' moving pictures from his textbooks and a few wizarding newspapers always scattered around the Leaky, Hellion shrugged and tossed the card to Ron.

"Here, you can have it. Take the others too."

"You can start collecting, though," Ron said excitedly, holding the card back to him. "Besides, I've got eight Dumbledores."

Hellion took the card back, so the redhead wouldn't push the issue, but he had no plans of starting a collection. He listened as Ron went on about getting another Morgana, and soon the boys had unwrapped a Hengist of Woodcroft, Alberic Grunnion, Circe, Paracelsus, Cliodna, and Merlin.

As Hellion picked up a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, Ron warned, "You want to be careful with those. When they say every flavour, they  _ mean _ every flavour—you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a booger-favoured one once."

Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner.

"Bleaaargh—see? Sprouts." Then he smirked. "Go on, try the white one. Might be cream of wheat."

They had a good time eating Every Flavour Beans, and Hellion made a plan to send some sans warning to Rufus. Hellion got toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and was even brave enough to nibble the end off a funny grey one Ron wouldn't touch, which turned out to be pepper. Hellion made note of all the seasoning kinds, excited by the rare treat he could bring with him over the summer and no one be the wiser. They would just assume it was beans. Trouble, however, sneezed at the pepper one, so Hellion marked 'no pepper' in his mind for Trouble.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone, and now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment, and the round-faced boy Hellion had passed on the train platform came in. He looked tearful, which made Hellion straighten, alert.

"Sorry," the boy said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

Hellion blinked, remembering what he overheard from the boy and his gran, then shook his head with Ron.

The boy wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"Nick a tank or somethin'," Hellion suggested.

"I broke his tank," the boy said miserably and left.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," Ron said. "If I'd brought a toad, I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."

The rat was still snoozing on Ron's lap, and Hellion frowned at it. There was nothing wrong with toads or rats, in his opinion. They were all lucky to have pets, he thought, even if they were lazy or escapees.

"He might have died, and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look…"

He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway—"

Ron had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She looked around their age and was already wearing her Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice that reminded Hellion of Darlene, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

"No toads here, sorry," Hellion said, but the girl wasn't listening. She was looking at the wand in Ron's hand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then." She sat down, and Ron looked taken aback.

Hellion sniggered at the look on his face. "Yeah, Ron. Show us wha' 'em unicorn hairs can do."

Ron sent him a slight glare and cleared his throat. " _ Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow; turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."  _ He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed grey and fast asleep.

Hellion laughed.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" the girl asked. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practise, and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard—I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough—I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

She said all this very fast, and Hellion and Ron shared an incredulous look.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Hellion's me. And we're jus'  _ ever _ so pleased to meet you."

The girl nodded, as though she expected nothing less. "I am as well. Do either of you know what House you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad… Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

Once she and the boy were gone, Ron said, "Whatever House I'm in, I hope she's not in it."

Hellion sniggered. "Come now, Ron, you know you would be  _ ever so pleased _ ."

Ron grinned at him. "I would be ever so  _ not _ ." Then he sighed and threw his wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell—George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."

"Which Houses are 'em in?"

"Gryffindor," Ron said gloomily again. "Mum and Dad were in it too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw  _ would _ be too bad but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."

"Eh, Slytherin don't sound so bad, but Ravenclaw sounds boring. The bloke that helped me get me school things said they really value intelligence and things, and I ain't got nothin' against some brains, but in my experience, you're either book-smart or street-smart. 'Em chaps don't sound like they could last a week where I'm from."

"I don't much like the idea either," Ron sighed. He stayed flopped back into his seat, looking depressed.

"Hey, 'em's the breaks," Hellion said, wanting the fun-Ron back. "School don't last forever, does it? And me friends say that it don't matter how you learn, just that you learn."

"Yeah, I guess."

"What d'your brothers do now, anyway, since they've left school?" He had been wondering what kind of Spook careers there were outside of shops in Diagon. He knew there was a Spook equivalent to doctors from his books, and there was the whole Ministry thing, but he was hoping there were more exciting options.

"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, and Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts," Ron answered. "Did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the  _ Daily Prophet _ , but I don't suppose you get that with the muggles—someone tried to rob a high security vault."

Hellion did a double-take, mind having zeroed in on the idea of studying dragons—which sounded amazing to Hellion. He had seen the  _ Daily Prophet _ sporadically over his week at Diagon, but he hadn't given a single shite about what was in them.

"Really?" he asked. "Wha' happened to 'em?"

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."

"Interesting…" Hellion mumbled, turning the news over in his mind.

He still got a flash of anger any time the mighty Dark Snore was mentioned, but the idea of someone breaking into Gringotts was far more fascinating to him. From what he saw first-hand, attempting to rob it would be a grand feat—but the thief got away? How did they do it? How did they get to the vault, let alone inside it? And which vault was it? Ron said high security—Hellion's wasn't high security, he didn't think, so he could just  _ imagine _ the treasure. He pictured mounting piles of glittering gems and felt a thrill just thinking about nicking them.

"What's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked, cutting through his musings.

"Wha'?"

"Your Quidditch team?" Ron repeated. "You know about Quidditch, yeah?"

Hellion grinned. "Yeah. I reckon I'll be supporting the Irish what with the scandal and all."

Ron looked stunned. "You don't," he protested. "They sacked Daire!" And like that, Ron was off, describing how every team member on the Irish team was mad, how they didn't hold a candle to the Chudley Cannons, then off describing famous games he had been to with his brothers and the broomstick he would like to get if he had the money.

At that, Hellion internally smirked, since he himself had that broom Ron said he wanted, but he thought better of showing it to Ron.

Hellion had just finished humouring Ron that his Cannons could take the South American team when the train began slowing down. Hellion peered out the window and saw it was getting dark. He could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky, and he worried his lip, wondering exactly how he would get back to London if he decided to leave.

"Come on," Ron said, standing. "Let's get our robes on."

Hellion and Ron took off their jackets and pulled on their long black robes. Ron's were a bit short for him, and Hellion could see his trainers underneath them. Hellion dumped the rest of his treats in his trunk and wrestled a reluctant Trouble into his carrier.

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train. It will be taken to the school separately."

Hellion scowled.

"What?" Ron asked.

"I don't like leavin' me stuff."

"It's just for a bit," Ron said. "I don't think anyone would steal anything."

"Speak for yourself," Hellion mumbled, bending back over his trunk.

Using his body to shield what he was doing, Hellion pocketed the security box with his Gringotts key and his money, made sure his switchblade was safe in his pocket, and snuck some food on his person as well. He really wanted to pack a few clothes and things in his backpack, but he told himself that in this setting, having it would cause him to stick out. He did, however, after a second thought, grabbed his glasses from his backpack and shoved them on.

Grumbling irritably, he relocked his trunk, double-checking it was secure, then cooed goodbyes to his pets. All the while, Ron laughed and teased him about acting like he was never going to see them again. Hellion didn't want to voice that was actually a concern for him. Eventually, they joined the crowd thronging the corridor.

The train continued to slow down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Hellion shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and a loud, booming voice blared out: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"

"Blimey!" Hellion commented. "Tha' chap is huge!"

There was a snort beside him, and Hellion looked over to see a pale-skinned boy with light, almost white, blond hair and an angular face. "My parents told me about him. He's some kind of castle servant or something."

"Really?" Hellion grinned. "Looks more suitable as a guard, don'cha think?" Then he elbowed Ron. "How d'you think your Cannons would fend against a team of 'im?"

Ron rolled his eyes as they began following the others. "Is this going to be a thing now? Anything you think is funny up against the Chudley Cannons?"

"Wasn't plannin' it, but if you insist. Let's see… your Cannons against a team of pandas?"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed the giant down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Hellion thought there must be thick trees there. Hellion and Ron teased each other quietly, but nobody else spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," the giant called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud, "Oooooh!" from the students.

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers. Hellion suddenly felt like he was in a fairy tale.

"No more'n four to a boat!" the giant called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Hellion and Ron were followed into their boat by Neville and Hermione.

"Everyone in?" the giant shouted, having taken a whole boat to himself. "Right then—FORWARD!"

The fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" the giant yelled as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads, and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle until they reached a kind of underground harbour, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oi, you there! Is this your toad?" asked the giant, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands.

"Watcha, Trevor," Hellion grinned, reaching over and giving the toad a pat on the head once he was secure in Neville's hands.

They climbed up a passageway in the rock after the giant's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

The giant raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door. Hellion took a breath and whispered, "Let's do this."


	5. Getting Things Sorted

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired Spook in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face that just screamed authority, and Hellion was already just daring her to give him an order.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," the giant said.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big, Hellion thought he probably could have fit the whole London shelter in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Hellion could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right, realising the rest of the school must have already arrived, and Professor McGonagall showed the first-years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, the others standing rather closely in apparent nervousness, and Hellion fought to get to the side and gain some space there.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," the professor said. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room

"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history, and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Hellion scowled at her and her little judgmental eyes.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," she finished. "Please wait quietly."

Ron seemed then to notice Hellion wasn't beside him anymore, and he pushed through a few people to reach him.

"Why does it have to be in front of the whole school?" Hellion complained immediately. "I don't wanna do this in front of everyone. How the bloody hell are we sorted, anyway?"

"Some sort of test, I think," Ron answered, looking nervous. "Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

"Wha', Fred? No way," Hellion smirked.

"Shut up."

"But why does everyone have to watch?" Hellion pressed. "Everyone will know who I am then."

"Well… I guess, they were going to find out anyway, right? And I heard a few people asking if anyone's seen you yet. Maybe it's best to just get it over with."

Hellion grumbled, unhappy.

The others were looking terrified, and Hellion could admit he was nervous too. Not willing to show it, he maintained his scowl and crossed his arms. Most everyone was quiet, except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she had learned and wondering which one she would need. Hellion was beginning to feel a little trapped and on edge.

Then something happened that made them jump, and Hellion had his knife out in a blink as several people screamed.

"What the-"

About twenty ghosts had streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first-years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying, "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance-"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost—I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first-years.

No one answered, and Hellion noticed Ron eyeing his knife. He subtly flipped it closed and gave Ron a shrug. Ron gave him a tight smile, but he looked concerned and confused.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old House, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned, and Hellion hurriedly pocketed his switchblade. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," the prof told the first-years, "and follow me."

Feeling miffed for no real reason, Hellion got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Ron behind him, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Hellion had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in mid-air over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting, Hellion having spotted Severus immediately. Professor McGonagall led the first-years up there, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the strange eyes, Hellion looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in  _ Hogwarts, A History _ ."

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.

Hellion had to pull his eyes away from it as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first-years. On top of the stool, she put a pointed Spook's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty, like something Hellion would find on the streets.

Hellion looked around, trying to get a clue what was going to happen next. Everyone was just staring at the hat, though, and Hellion started to tap his fingers on his thighs. There were a few moments of complete silence, then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth—and the hat began to sing.

It was… a song, Hellion supposed. It rhymed at least, and it referenced hats, which he figured was appropriate. It also gave fluffy, basic explanations of the Houses. Calling Ravenclaws wise and for those of learning did nothing to appease Hellion toward them, though he conceded a liking to wit and having a ready mind. It called Hufflepuff unafraid to toil, which Hellion was unsure what that meant and hesitant to agree to anything he didn’t fully understand. As far as being just and loyal… rarely did he ever see either of those qualities pay off. Gryffindors were called brave, with daring and nerve, which he liked, but also chivalrous, which just automatically made him want to roll his eyes.

Slytherins, however, were labelled cunning, people who would do anything to achieve their ends, and even was the only House declared where he would find "real friends". That sounded… nice. Promising, even if he didn't dare himself to hope.

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished. It bowed to each of the four tables, and Hellion peeked over his shoulder to raise an eyebrow at Severus. Severus was there, in all black robes, and he raised his goblet to his mouth, Hellion thought to hide a smirk.

"So we just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Hellion. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

Hellion snorted. "No offence, mate, but you ain't no Ravenclaw."

Ron gently swatted at his shoulder. "Oh, shut up. You're going to be Slytherin for sure."

"I actually kinda hope so," Hellion whispered back. "Usin' any means to achieve me ends—tha's saved my life, tha' has."

Ron gave him an odd look, then shook his head with a teasing grin. "Bloody snake."

Hellion glanced at the green and silver banners over one of the tables with a House crest featuring a snake. "Hiss hiss."

Professor McGonagall had stepped forward as they were whispering and was now holding a long roll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she announced. "Abbot, Hannah!"

"Shite," Hellion whispered to Ron. "She's gonna call me Harry Potter in front of the entire bloody school."

"It's alright, Harry. Best to get it over with, remember?"

"Hellion," Hellion corrected. "My name is Hellion."

Ron nodded.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

A table to the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table.

"Oh, this is bloody great," Hellion mumbled.

"Bones, Susan!"

Hellion looked around, tapping his fingers faster on his thigh. He definitely felt trapped now, and he found himself looking around for all possible escape routes.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Boot, Terry!"

There was a door off to each side from the teacher's table, then the great big doors they came in through. He had to remind himself that a ceiling was actually there because he felt as though he could climb the wall and jump on over.

Eyes sweeping over the Great Hall again, Hellion caught sight of the twins who both grinned at him. He nodded his head in sarcastic acknowledgement, and they sniggered. Another person at the table next to them caught his eye, and he was staring at Hellion like he was disapproving how fidgeting he was being. Hellion scowled and gave the boy v's.

Hermione Granger close to him made a noise and jerked Hellion's arm down.

"Don't touch me!" he hissed at her.

"That's a rude gesture!" she chastised.

"Yeah, I know," he said slowly like she was an idiot, "that's why I did it."

The blond boy from the train platform heard him and sniggered, giving Hellion a grin.

Hellion rolled his eyes at him and focused back to the Sorting as a prim looking boy was also sorted into Hufflepuff.

"School's full of 'Puffs," he mumbled, making both Ron and the blond boy snigger again.

He watched as a Finnigan, Seamus and the Granger, Hermione were both sorted into Gryffindor, Ron groaning at that last, and Hellion noticed that sometimes the hat shouted out the House at once, but on others, it took a little while to decide.

A horrible thought struck Hellion then: what if he wasn't chosen at all? Would he not be allowed to stay if a bloody hat said he couldn't? Would he be forced out before he ever really started, all because a fucking  _ hat _ decided he didn't belong?

He voiced this as Longbottom, Neville, the boy with the toad, was called forward, falling over on his way to the stool.

"Nonsense," the blond answered him. "You wouldn't have made it through the front doors if you didn't belong."

Hellion huffed, crossing his arms only to uncross them. "Well, it's just a bloody hat. If it happens, I'mma make me own House. I'm a, er… a Swelfin. Tha's right, I'm a Swelfin, our House animal is a giraffe, and our Quidditch team can beat the Cannons. There. I'm sorted."

Ron shook his head, lips twitching though he was obviously still nervous. "Your Swelfins ain't got nothing on my Cannons."

"Malfoy, Draco!"

The blond, who was smirking at Hellion, apparently finding him amusing, swaggered forward on the name. The hat barely touched his head before it screamed: "SLYTHERIN!"

"God, he was a Malfoy?" Ron sneered in apparent disgust. "Yuck. Should've known, look at his hair."

Hellion snorted. "I actually like his hair. Better than this buggered mess," he gestured to his own head.

"Don't go insulting your buggered mess when it hides your scar," Ron whispered to him.

"Bang to rights," Hellion agreed seriously, watching as a pair of twins got sorted in different Houses. "Not much good it's 'bout to do me."

"Perks, Sally-Anne!"

"You'll be fine, Hellion. I just hope I get into Gryffindor. I don't think I'll be able to look my brothers in the face if I don't."

"RAVENCLAW!"

"If they got a problem with your House, tell them to shove it," Hellion growled, his nerves finally getting to him.

"Potter, Harry!"

A heavy silence fell momentarily across the hall, then whispers broke out like little hissing fires as he stepped up to the stool.

" _ Potter _ , did she say?"

" _ The  _ Harry Potter?

"Oh, sod off!" he yelled at the hall.

"Mr Potter," reprimanded Professor McGonagall.

"Well!" Hellion defended himself, throwing up his hands as he flopped down on the stool.

"Ignore them," he heard Ron hiss.

The last thing Hellion saw before the hat was dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear, making him jump and a hand fly to his pocket. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes—and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting… So where shall I put you?"

_ I don't bloody care anymore _ , Hellion thought. He wanted to leave now, run back to the shelter where he was just Hellion, and share a meatpie with Rufus.

"You don't care, you say? I don't think that's true. But I see you're already planning your escape. You're quite cunning. You have self-preservation in spades, too, but you are well practised in that area already, aren't you? You could be great, you know, it's all here, in your head…"

Hellion perked up a little.

"There's not much you're afraid of either, is there? Your loyalty is hard-won but unflappable. Hmm…"

_ Oh for the love of… _

In an act of defiance to show just how much he didn't care, Hellion pulled a pasty from one of his pockets, crinkled it open, and took a large bite, swinging his legs.

The Sorting Hat laughed. "Good luck, Mr Hellion. I daresay you will go far. SLYTHERIN!"

The last the hat shouted to the whole hall. Hellion pulled the hat off, handing it back to the Spook, and strode toward the Slytherin table in the now dead-silent hall.

"Got nothin' to say now, is tha' it?" he yelled to the gaping faces, flinging his arms open.

Then, an older Slytherin student stood, yelling out to the hall, "HOW DO YOU LIKE US NOW!"

That seemed to break the rest of the Slytherins out of their own shock, and the green and silver students went wild, bellowing out cheers in almost deafening levels, completely drowning out the teachers who attempted to scold the boy who yelled first.

Hellion was promptly pulled into the pool of green and silver. He tensed up, telling himself it would stop soon—not to stab anyone, they were just children, and then McGonagall was calling for silence.

Hellion found himself seated between the blond from earlier and a large boy who seemed to have stolen his pasty during the chaos.

"Bloody hell," Hellion sighed, wishing the continued Sorting would stop the students from leaning over each other to see him. "Eyes up front!"

"Turn around!" another older Slytherin student barked at a Hufflepuff.

Hellion made sure his bangs were covering his scar, and he crossed his arms on the table, annoyed, but mostly relieved it was over.

He could see the High Table properly now. At the end furthest from him was the giant, Hagrid, who caught his eye, gave a smile, and quickly looked away. In the centre of the High Table in a large gold chair was who he recognised as Albus Dumbledore. His silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Hellion noted another professor in a large purple turban sitting next to Severus. Another prof seemed to be a dwarf, and there was another who seemed to have dirt on her robes.

When Ron's name was called, Hellion caught his eye and gave him a thumbs up. He was pale green at that point, and though Hellion hoped the boy got his wish, he thought it would have been nice if they were in the same House. He liked him.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Hellion clapped along with the Gryffindor table, and the blond beside him sneered. "God, he was a Weasley? How disgusting."

Hellion smirked at the boy. "Funny. He had somethin' similar to say 'bout you."

The blond, Draco he remembered his name was, straightened and smoothed out his robes. "Weasleys give wizards a bad name, Potter. You should steer clear of them."

"Eh, we got on. I like 'im," Hellion shrugged. "And call me Hellion."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Hellion?"

"S'at me name."

"I thought you were Harry Potter," the big boy on the other side of him said.

"Haven't been 'im in ages. Name's Hellion."

A boy with dark skin sat in front of him then, and Hellion watched absentmindedly as Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

"Hello," the boy that just joined them said to Hellion. "I'm Blaise Zabini, but you know that, of course."

"Why would I know tha'?"

"It… I just was Sorted? My name was just called."

"Wasn't payin' attention," Hellion shrugged. "Watcha. I'm Hellion."

Blaise frowned. "What?"

"He goes by Hellion, Blaise, not Harry Potter," Draco said smoothly. "I'm Draco Malfoy. That there is Greg Goyle, and that's Vincent-"

Albus Dumbledore got to his feet, beaming at the students, and the hall fell quiet. Draco looked at the man like he was annoyed the Headmaster dared to interrupt him. It made Hellion smirk.

"Welcome!" the tall man said, spreading his arms wide. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered; the Slytherins, Hellion noticed, were far more subdued about it, and Hellion didn't clap at all. "Well," he drawled, "I am so glad I stopped to listen to tha'. Don't think I've ever heard a speech do a runner."

Draco sniggered. "Quite. As I was saying, this is Vincent Crabbe, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, and Millicent Blustrode."

"Watcha," Hellion greeted them, then his mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He didn’t think he had ever seen that much food before in his life: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, chips, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and for some strange reason peppermint humbugs.

Instead of being impressed as the other young students clearly were, Hellion was appalled.

"There ain't no way we're gonna eat all this!" he complained.

"I don't think we're intended to, Hellion," Draco said, smirking at Hellion again.

"Tha's beastly," Hellion judged. "There are thousands of people goin' hungry right this second, but we get to be knees up with more food than I've ever even  _ seen _ . And wha' of the leftov- …oi, is tha' beef tart?"

The kids around him laughed. "You were saying," Pansy Parkinson sniggered, picking up the dish.

"Shuddup and pass me me tart," Hellion replied, gesturing with greedy hands, his outrage greatly soothed.

They laughed again.

"For a moment there, I thought the Boy Who Lived got sorted wrong," Blaise said.

"Hey," Hellion replied, mouth full of meat and pointing with his fork, "I stand by me rant, but don't mean  _ I _ wanna go hungry tonight."

"Aw, a civil-minded Slytherin," Daphne cooed. "How cute."

Hellion wanted to comment scathingly back, but then he spotted some interesting looking casserole and demanded that be passed to him instead.

"How did he get covered in blood?" Theodore abruptly asked.

Hellion followed the boy's line of sight to see a horrible ghost sitting down the table with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He made a face.

"Don't ask him," an older student whispered back to Theodore.

"But I wanna know," Hellion disagreed. "Oi-!"

"Shh!" several students stopped him at once.

"Wha'? Wha's the worst tha' could happen?"

"He's the Bloody Baron, isn't he?" Draco asked. "My parents told me about him. He's the Slytherin ghost."

"Yeah," the older student confirmed, "and don't put him in a bad mood, Potter. We're having a feast, after all."

"Fine, but only if you don't call me Potter. Name's Hellion."

The student frowned at him but then shrugged. "Whatever."

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded, but not before Hellion squirrelled away as much as he could in napkins. The food was replaced a moment later with desserts. Blocks of ice cream in every flavour, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice puddles…

"Oh my god," Hellion whispered, leaning over to Draco and holding his stomach, "this can't go on. D'you think we'll eat like this every day?"

Draco snorted, rolling his eyes. "Really, Hellion? No, of course not. We'd all become cows."

Hellion sighed. Turned out Hellion was wrong; his stomach wasn't ready for this. Staring longingly at the treacle tart, he decided not to chance it and focused on others around him.

"We're from the long and prestigious line of Notts," Theodore was saying pompously, apparently to no one in particular. Hellion quirked an eyebrow. "We authored the Sacred Twenty-Eight, you know."

"Oh, really?" Hellion said in his best fake-posh voice. "How superb. Quite marvellous."

"Indeed," Theodore agreed. "Cantankerus Nott, you know."

"Why, yes, excellent. Cantankerus. Exquisite."

Draco, Blaise, Pansy, and Daphne could obviously tell that Hellion was mocking Theodore, and they all seemed to be fighting smiles.

"Yes, Cantankerus. My father's Cyril Nott, of course."

"Most outstanding, very good. Admirable Cyril, yes."

"Yes. My mother's Catherine Nott as well."

"Ah, Cyril and Catherine, yes, of course. Superlative, indeed. Very impressive."

At that, Draco and Pansy lost their composure and began laughing outright.

"Pardon?" Theodore frowned.

"Ignore them, Theodore," Hellion continued in his posh voice. "They're children, the lot of them. Not like us, no. First-class, yes."

Theodore finally caught on and grew pink.

Blaise chuckled. "Score one, Pot-… er, Hellion."

"Indeed," Hellion agreed in posh, grinning.

"You think you're funny,  _ Potter _ ," Theodore hissed in his clear embarrassment.

"Quite," Hellion continued. "I'm most entertaining."

Draco, Pansy, and Blaise laughed again, and Daphne leaned over and patted Theodore's hand placatingly.

Theodore began complaining, still a little pink, and conversation moved on. Beginning to feel warm and sleepy, Hellion looked up at the High Table again. The giant was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Dumbledore, and the turban bloke was talking to Severus.

It happened very suddenly. Severus' eyes swung away from the turban man, coming to look to the side and straight into Hellion's eyes—and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Hellion's forehead.

Hellion jerked his head as though struck, both hands coming to clamp on his forehead. He winced and rubbed at his scar before flattening his hair there. The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the sheer memory of any pain, or rather, the memories of different kinds of pain. It struck down to his bones, and he had to remind himself he was safe.

"Hellion?" Draco whispered beside him.

"What?" he snapped.

"Sorry," Draco snorted sardonically. "Just wanted to ask if you were alright."

Hellion swallowed, rolling his shoulders, then looked up, head held high and shoulders back. He smirked at the blond and said poshly, "Quite."

Draco looked briefly confused and concerned but then smirked back. "Indeed."

Hellion looked back to Severus, but the man had returned to his conversation. The turban man looked very nervous, with his hands shaking, and it made Hellion grin a little because the way Severus was looking at him probably would have most people shaky.

"I heard he was passed up for the job again," Draco said, breaking into Hellion's thoughts.

"Who? Wha'?"

Draco nodded toward Severus. "Professor Snape."

"Everyone knows he wants the Defence Against the Dark Arts job," Blaise said.

"Ah," Hellion nodded. "But he's stuck in Potions."

"Correct," Draco sighed. "My parents say the position is cursed. There's a new Defence teacher every year, even when they were here."

"Who do you think it is this year?" Blaise asked.

They spent a good while evaluating the professors, making guesses who was who, while Draco and Blaise pointed out the ones they already knew. It would seem his fellow Slytherins knew quite a lot and their families had a lot of connections.

They all sounded rich and spoiled, and Hellion would bet that not a single one of them even knew what cocaine was let alone how to spot it. Every now and then, they seemed to tumble over each other, trying to sound more impressive than the last, and each time that happened, Hellion would mock them. Eventually, he got Pansy, Draco, Blaise, and once even Millicent to blush slightly (she did not look like a girl who would blush easily). Theodore didn't seem to have forgiven him, but the others brushed him off.

Hellion couldn't help it, though. Some of the things they said and the way they said them, either made him feel like a lag or suspiciously like his new Housemates were like the bunch of nobs that have all-out spat on him over the years.

He didn't appreciate either.

Though he had no plans on wasting his time nor respect on spoiled, rich brats, he wanted to learn what he could from them. He was in the Spooks' world now, after all, and could use the advantage.

Besides, a part of him was enjoying that they were assuming he was just like them. Never in his life had he actually received friendly smiles and traded jokes with nobs. It was kind of nice to be treated like one instead of a stinky, homeless ruffian.

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem—just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First, I would like to announce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor Quirrell."

The hall clapped, and the nervous man in the turban half stood and did an awkward bow.

"Welcome, Professor Quirrell!" Dumbledore led the applause. "We are happy to have you with us."

Once the hall was quiet again, he continued.

"First-years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's eyes flashed in the direction of the two redheaded Weasley twins at the Gryffindor table. Hellion grinned.

"I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Hellion laughed, but he was one of the few who did. He noticed this, and how Dumbledore looked serious, then blurted loudly, "Are you off your chump?"

Several people laughed at that, and Dumbledore smiled at him, eyes twinkling. Hellion did not smile back. He couldn't believe this man was serious.

Turning accusing eyes at Severus, he wasn't surprised to find the man already looking at him. He looked chastising at Hellion's outburst, but Hellion couldn't care about that. He mouthed, " _ You said I was safe here. Die a horrible death?" _

Severus gave only a slight nod of acknowledgement but otherwise didn't respond.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore, and as the teachers kept fixed smiles and Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick for a long golden ribbon to flow out of it to form words, Hellion began steaming.

A very painful death, huh? Say, whatever happened that Hellion chap? Oh, he got picked to go off to some fancy-schmancy boarding school, but poor chav got turned around and ended up on the third-floor corridor and died a very painful death. Some school, that.

No wonder the Spooks wanted to remain hidden. Couldn't punish what didn't exist.

It seemed to take forever for everyone to finish singing, especially since no one was singing the same tune. It was the Weasley twins that finished last, having sung in a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand, and when they had finished, the Headmaster was one of those who clapped the loudest. Hellion had his arms resolutely crossed.

"Ah, music," Dumbledore said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Great Hall broke out in chatter, and Hellion bristled slightly at now having a bedtime. A prefect who introduced herself as Gemma Farley gathered the first-years and led them out. They followed her to the right of the Great Hall, then down a few flights of stone steps. Soon, the moving, talking portraits began to fade away, leaving just stone and torches on the walls with only a spare portrait here or there. The occupants of those weren't nearly as friendly. The prefect led them through a few tunnel-like corridors, then a secret panel, and they continued on the labyrinth. If Hellion wasn't on edge again, he probably wouldn't have been filing away every turn. As it stood, he was memorising every step.

Eventually, they stopped in front of a stretch of bare, damp stone wall.

"Mugwump," Gemma said then continued as a stone door concealed in the wall slid open, "That's the password. It changes every fortnight, and current passwords are posted on the common room's board. Do not reveal the password to anyone not in your House, and preferably not even to those in your House. If you forget and get stuck out here, it's your own fault."

Hellion shrugged to himself, agreeing.

"This way," Gemma gestured.

She led them through a stone archway and into a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling, from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains. There were several bookcases and cabinets lining the walls, and several large, dark wooden tables around the room. The sitting furniture was a rich, black leather, and green hearths were underneath them. The windows were large and arched, and Hellion's eyes widened when he saw some fish swim by them. They were clearly underneath the lake, and there were several openings on the ceiling by one wall, revealing large chutes where owls were swooshing in and out. A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them, and several Slytherins were silhouetted around it in high-backed chairs, while others were moving from here and there, greeting each other or claiming several books from the shelves.

"Over there are the doors to the dorms," Gemma told them. "The left one is the boys', the right the girls'. You will share your dorm with your year-mates until OWL year where you'll share with either one year-mate or two, depending on how many of you there are. First floor is for first-years and you move on up per year. Over there," she pointed to the other side of the commons, "is a hallway that will lead you to workrooms, other sitting areas, and the game room. You must be getting an Acceptable in all your classes in order to use the game room, and if you're making a Dreadful in anything, then you lose privileges to the sitting rooms as well.

"For those of you who don't know what that means - our marks in our classes, from best to worst, are as followed: O for Outstanding, E for Exceeding Expectations, A for Acceptable, D for Dreadful, P for Poor, and T for Troll. In case there is any misunderstanding, if you receive a D or less, you are failing."

Hellion felt his stomach knot. He really was back in school, he guessed.

"The Slytherin library is opened to any of us, and there are more shelves and books in the workrooms. The cabinets hold your basic wizarding supplies as well as some more advanced material. You must be in your OWL year or higher, or have special permission, to use the more advanced material. All things are not to leave the Slytherin dormitories.

"As you can see, we are under the lake. Do not be disturbed by anything you might see, it's all friendly even if it's ugly as sin…  or, at the very least, segregated. There is no fighting allowed anywhere except in the common room where we can all see and enjoy, and there is absolutely no duelling allowed. Even try, and the minimal punishment is loss of thirty House points and detention. There are curfews we all must obey, and breaking curfew has the minimal punishment of ten House points and detention. Also, it is up to you and your dormmates about loo schedules, alarms allowed, that kind of thing. If you cannot agree, come to any prefect for the deciding vote.

"Finally, there are six Slytherin prefects altogether, three female, three male, fifth year and up. We wear these," she pointed to her green and silver badge with the letter  _ P _ on it, "so you can tell who we are. Professors often listen to our advisement on punishments, but we're not all that bad. You are free to come to us with any problems or anything. If it's related to your gender, please go to that gender's prefect. The head boy and girl this year are Katie Plotts in Hufflepuff and Jeremy Fields in Gryffindor. If you have a problem you can't bring to us, or a problem about one of us, you can go to either of them.

"Our Head of House is, of course, Professor Snape."

Hellion blinked, surprised, then scowled, because of course he was.

"You are also free to go to him with anything too. I would advise it to be during his office hours, posted on the board, unless it's an emergency.

"Any questions?"

"Yeah," Hellion immediately spoke up. "When's curfew?"

"Curfew begins promptly at twenty hundred for first, second, and third years, twenty-one hundred for fourth years, twenty-two hundred for fifth and sixth years, and twenty-three hundred for seventh years. If you are of age, however, you do not have a curfew. The times are also posted on the board if you need reminding."

"Is there punishment for failin' a class?" he asked.

"Not at first, but if the problem continues, you will receive detention where you are required to work on the subjects giving you problems."

"How d'we get special permission for the advanced stuff in 'em cabinets?"

"You take the request to directly to Professor Snape, and if he signs a permission slip, you give it to a prefect to collect the items for you."

"Wha' happens if we take Slytherin stuff outta the dorms?"

Gemma began to glare. "You will be punished."

"Is there a minimal punishment for tha'?"

"Yes," she said, losing some of her professional-like tone, "five House points."

"How many points we start off with?"

"None. Every House earns them as we go."

"Wha' happens if we use the game room when we're not allowed?"

"You will also be punished," she clipped, patience obviously rapidly wearing off.

Hellion kept himself from smirking. "Wha's the punishment for tha'?"

"That will solely depend on you."

"Who d'we take our problems to if we got a problem with the head boy or girl?"

"You would take them to Professor Snape."

"Wha' usually happens in detention?"

At this point, Blaise and Draco were covering their mouths, sniggering very quietly.

"That solely depends on who gives you detention and why."

"Wha' usually happens in detention given for duellin' or somethin'?"

"That solely depends on Snape."

"Are we allowed in other people's dorms?"

"If you have their explicit permission, and no one under the age of sixteen is allowed in another gender's room."

"Wha' if your transgender?"

Gemma quirked a brow. "Are you transgender?"

"I'm only eleven, you never know."

She blinked at him. "…If you learn you are transgender, we can address the issue then."

"Okay, let's say I have a chicken, a goblet, and one of 'em special advanced material doofers, and I'm in the game room gettin' in an argument with-"

"If you do not have any serious questions, please release my prefect," came a quiet voice behind them.

They spun around to find Severus there, face set in a scowl, though Hellion saw his lips quirk.

"Okay, okay, but I do got one more serious question," Hellion said, turning back to an annoyed looking Gemma who didn't look like she believed him. "Seriously, it's serious. Wha's an OWL year?"

Gemma sighed, giving Severus a quick look, then answered. "There are two major examinations you will take while at Hogwarts that determine your advancement and graduation. The first is in your fifth year, and they are the OWLs. The second is in your seventh year, and they are called NEWTs. Though your OWLs will only affect which classes you take for your NEWTs, your NEWTs will determine which field of work you go into, as well as play a major role if you decide to continue your education to university."

Hellion blanched a little. "You mean we gotta figure out wha' our futures are by sixth year? I don't even know wha' I'm wearin' to bed tonight, mate."

Draco, Blaise, and Theodore laughed at that, and Gemma smiled. "No, you don't have to decide, but you will have to have narrowed down your interest. Professors will help in that, and if you should require any advice, you may also go to the prefects and head boy and girl."

"Thank you, Ms Farley. You may go re-join your friends. You lot," Severus addressed the first-years, "may go explore, but I strongly advise going to bed soon. Classes begin tomorrow. Mr Potter, follow me, I need a word."

Hellion rolled eyes but nodded. A few of the others spared him a sympathetic look but otherwise scurried away.

Hellion followed his new Head out of the dorms and back into the dungeons.

"Why didn't you tell me you were Head of Slytherin?" he immediately demanded.

"Again, I did not help you last week in my capacity as a professor, or Head, here. Merely as a staff member."

"Tha' night at the Leaky, when you said you had an idea of how I'd be sorted, which House you meant?"

Severus smirked. "Slytherin, of course."

"Then why didn't you tell me?" Hellion pressed.

"I would not have told any other student. What makes you so special?"

Hellion mocked him in a high voice, but before Severus could do anything but send him a warning look, Hellion continued, "Are the classes we're takin' now determine our OWLs? Y'know, if our OWLs determine our NEWTs?"

Severus shook his head, their footsteps echoing off the deserted dungeon corridors as they walked. "For your first two years, you will take all the standard classes. In third year, you will have the opportunity to add others determined on your interests in addition to the standard ones. Those will be your OWLs. From there, determined by your OWLs and interests, you will decide your NEWTs."

Hellion's eyes didn't leave Severus' profile. "Wha' if you make a mistake? Like, wha' if I'm half done with sixth year and realise I want somethin' completely different? Wha' then?"

"It would be addressed," Severus answered calmly. "If you need a class you haven't taken or aren't taking, there are plenty of summer programmes and the like that can get you set."

"Okay," Hellion sighed. "This is all just really hittin' me, y'know? I'm a student. Me. I'm gonna be graded and shite, and I know-"

"Language."

"-we've been talkin' 'bout it, and I got me books, but there's gonna be tests, and homework, and exams tha' decide me future, and I've just been thinkin' I'm gonna get a bed, y'know, but what if I fail? Oh god, d'you kick kids out if we don't pass our year?"

Severus came to a stop in front of another large, stone door, and looked down at him. "No, Potter, we don't. You simply repeat the year."

"Hellion," Hellion said firmly.

Severus seemed to take a subtle breath then inclined his head. "Hellion. If you do fail, you will not be kicked out. I will also inform you that we as a school take great care to encourage our students to pass, and Slytherin especially works exhaustively with any students struggling. Please trust me when I say, you would have to work harder to fail than to pass."

Hellion worried his lip a moment, then nodded.

Severus pushed opened the door and held it for Hellion to enter.

The room was a decent size and obviously a professor's office of some kind. There was a large, dark wooden desk toward the back with a high-winged, brown leather chair. On it were several rolls of parchment, books, and a small cauldron with smoke gently waffling out of it. A person-sized fireplace was off to the right, similar to one at the Leaky that allowed for Floo powder travel, which Hellion wasn't sure he wanted to experience by the look at the green flames, and around it was two black leather armchairs with a low table in-between. The other three walls apart from the one that held the fireplace were lined with shelves, and on those shelves were different sized wooden or stone boxes, books, stacks of parchment, but mostly jars were some interesting things and some things Hellion immediately wished he could unsee. There was a large, cream-coloured rug that took up most of the floor, and there were also three other wooden doors on either side of the fireplace that were shut, one of which had a large lock.

"Have a seat," Severus said, gesturing toward the armchairs by the fireplace.

Hellion spun in place once, then decided on the armchair closest to the door they just entered from. Severus stepped up beside him once he sat and held out his hand.

"Your switchblade."

Hellion blinked, then cleared his face of any expression and clenched his jaw. "No."

"Hellion, you are at a school. I understand what the knife may mean to you, and I know you depend on it. However, you and I both know you have an instinct of pulling it out, and I have considered the issue and have decided that the risks of any potential damage outweigh your dependency."

"No."

Severus took another breath and dropped his hand. "Did you or did you not reach for your knife during your Sorting?"

Hellion didn't answer.

"And did you or did you not actually pull the knife out and opened it while waiting to be sorted?"

"How the fuck would you know tha'?" Hellion demanded, feeling slightly stricken.

Severus closed his eyes a moment but still looked calm when he opened them. "One… enough swearing. This will be your only warning. I understand much of your vocabulary and grammar may be ingrained into you currently, but when it comes to swearing, you will be punished. Other professors will not hesitate to dock House points, and I will be among them. If you do not at least even show an effort, I will hand you detention until you do."

Hellion scowled, crossing his arms, and feeling completely and unreasonably defensive, angry, and entirely overwhelmed.

Severus must have seen it in his eyes because he sat in the other chair and asked the gentlest Hellion had heard from him, "Would you like some tea?"

Hellion shook his head.

"Very well. Let's first discuss the knife."

"It's mine," Hellion immediately said. "It's my  _ lifeline. _ "

Severus considered him for almost a full minute before he said, "How about a compromise?"

Hellion wrinkled his nose.

"I know a few spells and charms that can enable you to keep your security blanket but make it safe. Allow me to cast on your blade so that you cannot open it unless in genuine peril you can’t escape from, physically threatened, or in need of a knife without intent on harming another living being."

Hellion was miffed at his knife being called a security blanket, but seeing the opening, he thought about it. He said, "Can you also make it where I can open it as warnin' if there is no real intention of harm?"

Severus gave him a real smile. "Very good, Hellion. But no. I can, however, charm it to  _ look _ like the blade is out in warning, but it wouldn't actually do damage."

Hellion didn't like it, but he nodded.

"Any other conditions?"

Hellion's tapped his fingers on the chair's arms a few times then said, "And I can open it if I wake up not knowin' how's I got there, or if I find meself alone somewheres under maybe not good circumstances."

"I can do that," Severus nodded, "but it will take a few days to sort. Probably a week. In the meantime… I cannot have you carrying it."

Hellion scowled, with more worry than anger. "Who are you to say one way or 'nother?"

Severus leaned forward to put his elbows on his knees. "I am your Head of House. While you are here—especially you, removed from  _ any _ family—I am your guardian. My job isn't just to hand out detentions. My job is to keep you, and the other Slytherins, safe. It is my responsibility to make sure each of you eat every meal, get plenty of sleep, have everything you need, and most importantly, are happy and  _ safe _ . Your blade makes you feel safe, Hellion, and I recognise and respect that. However, there are not just your other Housemates to think of, there is everyone else in this castle—and that includes you too. It's my job to prevent something that could happen that would lead you to trouble, and also guilt. If you accidentally hurt someone, you and I both would suffer the consequences, and I, for one, refuse to be put on the spot to answer for why I allowed someone in my House to carry around a deadly weapon."

"So you don't trust me, is tha' it?"

"I don't trust the blade," Severus said sternly. "And if you're asking if I trust an eleven-year-old with a deadly weapon, then no, I don't. But this has absolutely nothing to do with you, and everything to do with the potential harm of someone else."

Hellion stood and began pacing.

"You can go one week without it," Severus said.

Hellion shook his head. "I haven't even decided if I'm stayin'."

"How would you leave?" Severus challenged.

Hellion rolled his eyes at him. "Try me."

"I am trying you," Severus said calmly. "You are by no means trapped here, but you are also not free to do as you please. I am making heavy allowances with our compromise as it is, particularly by not informing the Headmaster or anyone else about it. You have a great opportunity at Hogwarts, Hellion, and it would be foolish to give it up. And you and I both know you can still take care of yourself without the switchblade.  _ Especially  _ here, where you'll just have to contend with children your age, who sometimes can't even tie their shoes, and adults who are more concerned with timetables than any other shoelace-tripping children."

Hellion snorted at that, it being funny despite his anxiety, and Severus let him pace a while, thinking things over. When it came down to it, Severus was right that being there was a giant opportunity for him. He knew of some things he could learn how to do, and it was too tempting to pass up. His knife had sentimental value, but if he handed it over and decided to leave before he got it back, he had access to money now. He could get another. A week without it made him panicky, but again, the opportunities offered…

Without looking at the man, Hellion pulled the switchblade out of his pocket, stroked a finger over it, then closed his eyes and tossed it over his shoulder at Severus.

Severus made a noise, but by the sounds, he caught it. After a moment, he said, "Thank you, Hellion."

"Shut up," Hellion snapped, already feeling immensely vulnerable without it. He ran over and opened the door that led to the corridor then crossed his arms over his stomach, leaning against the shelves next to it. "Anythin' else? And how'd y'know 'bout before the sortin'?"

"There's plenty else other, and the Bloody Baron. He was among the ghosts that stumbled upon the first-years beforehand and informed me of your actions. He said there was only one student who saw, and that student was sorted Gryffindor. I've already created an excuse-"

"He won't tell," Hellion mumbled dejectedly, still not looking at the man. "Him's Ron Weasley. We rode the whole train together. He's a good egg."

Severus was quiet a moment. "I still created an excuse, whatever the outcome."

Hellion nodded.

"I also wanted to address the issue about the third-floor corridor, and about tomorrow."

Suddenly remembering the Headmaster's warning, Hellion looked up. "Die a painful death?!"

Severus didn't even hide taking a huge breath this time and nodded. "This is not usual for Hogwarts, and believe me when I say, you are not the only one unhappy about it. This year, and hopefully not for long, the right side of the third-floor corridor is… off-limits. Because of reasons I cannot discuss, there are only thin layers of protection guarding the… ah, beginnings of the danger there. It will be patrolled often, have some alarms, but you  _ are _ safe here. That area is only currently dangerous because our Headmaster is… doing something," he finished lamely.

Hellion snorted.

"I know," Severus sighed and actually looked weary, rubbing his forehead where he still sat in the armchair, "but the Headmaster's warning tonight, though cruelly worded, was not entirely inaccurate." He looked at Hellion seriously then. "I cannot discuss anything about it, but I will say this castle is vast and massive. The sectioned off area is barely a pin of this castle. You are safe here, Hellion."

Hellion swallowed, looking away for a moment and wishing he had his knife. Unintentionally, he patted his empty pocket a couple of times before he looked back over. "And tomorrow?"

At this Severus stood, coming to stand authoritatively in the centre of the room, hands behind his back.

"Tomorrow is a big day for you. In addition to starting school again, I've scheduled you already to see Madam Pomfrey, who is the resident Medi-witch on the grounds. Though I see you've taken care of your eyesight, you've gone years without medical care. After classes and before dinner, you will have a full exam. After dinner, you will return to the hospital wing, and you and she will talk. Madam Pomfrey is no stranger to helping a child trying to begin Hogwarts after a difficult childhood, but I am. I’ve failed at it in the past. I've asked her to take the lead when it comes to your mental health. I want you to have every resource possible, so I implore you to take advantage, and to be honest. Afterwards, I will meet with you again here where you will take a few tests that shan't take more than an hour. These tests will affect nothing of your standing here, but it will tell me if there is anything required for you to learn to meet those in your year so as to not be behind. Are you agreeable?"

Hellion ducked his head.

Without warning, he found himself missing those nights, on the street corners, where his biggest worry was if the stranger talking to him had a gun of some sort, which a month ago, seemed like one of the most overwhelming things possible to deal with.

Now, he could barely think properly.

"Dunno," he said tightly but honestly, not looking up. "This is all a whole lot."

The sound of Severus stepping one foot closer was all there was before, "I know. If you need, I am willing to put off everything for a bit except the placement tests. Again, they will not affect your standing or future grades. I just wish for you to have as much available to you as possible, but… I suppose I am willing to put those off a few days. As far as your health, I am only willing to put that off for a week, two at most."

Hellion turned it over in his head, still not looking up, and nodded. "Please, I… I don't want nobody touchin' me without me blade around, so no medi. And… and I dunno if I can even count right now with so much. I just… It's so much."

Severus walked a little closer but stayed outside of any personal space. "I understand. We'll wait a few days. Thank you for hearing me out, and I ask that if you wish to leave or have any concerns, just come to me first before doing anything drastic like running away."

Hellion nodded.

"I'll walk you back to the dorms."

He nodded again.

Together they left back into the now darkening and still empty dungeon corridors.

"Can I ask somethin'?"

"I am beginning to think that there isn't a force on earth that could stop you from ever speaking, but yes."

"What was 'em bright blue things, in those three jars close by the door?"

Severus' hand came to hover but not touch on Hellion's shoulder as they turned a corner.

"The grounds of unicorn horns and merpeople's tail scales. Together they're pretty, but useless, unless for a potion that grants its drinkers good luck for a day."

Hellion sighed. "Wouldn't 'em two be spawny, 'em."

Severus said nothing, but that hovering hand didn't waver.

Soon, Hellion climbed back through the archway into the Slytherins commons. It seemed almost everyone else had gone to bed. He easily picked his way through to the boys' dorms, and when he pushed his way into the first-years' room, he could hear his dormmates laughing, and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, okay, yes, I posted three chapters today, but I really wanted to share his sorting. Please let me know what you think!


	6. Purebloods and Three-Headed Dogs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has lifted text. Reminder: I have no rights to it, and don't pretend to.  
> I've tried rewording some things to fit this narrative, and I've added and rephrased a lot to try to keep too-familiar things interesting for those of us who have read those parts a million times like myself.  
> If something doesn't work, please feel free to tell me! I am happy to try again!

When Hellion woke the next day, it took him a moment to remember he fell asleep in his new school's dorms. He was nice and warm on a very comfortable bed with silky sheets, his body totally relaxed, and just like every morning now, a bundle of warm fur was curled up half on top of his head, breathing deeply.

Hellion peeked open his eyes and raised a hand to gently pet Trouble awake. Through the green curtains of his large four-poster bed, Hellion could see the lake outside his window. The morning sun lit up the lake significantly, and it gave the room a wavy light green tint.

Slowly, Hellion pulled himself out of bed to go get a better look.

The water looked nice and cool, immediately making him thirsty. Among seaweed and other plant life, he could see schools of fish, some very colourful, some large and dumb looking. Further on out in the lake, he could just make out some bigger shadows of other creatures, and every so often there was a muted _thump_ of water hitting the glass or a deep _swoosh_ of a wave.

As much as he loved it, after a few moments, it made him need the loo.

Their Slytherin dorm was a large rectangle room, three beds on each side, and while he was away the night before, it seemed Trouble had claimed one the beds closest to the two large windows columning the large fireplace. The walls were stone, and already his dormmates had put up posters and pictures, and in the case of Blaise, framed paintings. The loo was just across the hall, and it was elaborate as well, complete with stone shower stalls and even stalls for big, clawfoot tubs that had several tabs. He was looking forward to investigating those later, but he figured he first had to get used to feeling like… well, like he was in a prestigious, extravagant castle.

The other boys were beginning to wake up by the time he returned, and he was the only one surprised when he opened his trunk to find his school robes had changed, the insides of them having turned silky green, and on the front was the Slytherin crest in green and silver. There were also several other Slytherin things laid out for him, including ties, scarfs, a few pins, and cufflinks.

"Blimey," he muttered, "I'm all fancy now."

Problem was, he had no idea how to tie a tie, or what to do with cufflinks. He didn't even know those things were called cufflinks until he heard Blaise use the term. He didn't want to show his ignorance either. At least not to his dormmates.

Shoving the items in his pocket and packing up what he thought he might need for the day (keeping sure to have his money, glasses, and Gringotts key on him), Hellion snuck out, figuring that Ron or the Weasley twins might know how to do this. It wasn't as though he wanted to make an impression, mind, he didn't care what anyone thought, but it was his first day, after all. An effort was warranted, he figured. Or that was what he told himself.

Hellion navigated the dungeons well, having remembered the path Gemma had used, and when he got to the entrance hall, he peeked into the Great Hall. There were a few students there, but mostly it was empty.

"Oi," he called to a ghost floating by. "Which way to the Gryffindor commons?"

The ghost sneered at him slightly. "You're a _Slytherin_. You should be in your own House's dorm."

"I don't wanna go in 'em," Hellion frowned at the sassy ghost. "Just needin' help from one of 'em Gryffindors."

She eyed him like she didn't know if she believed him.

"Honest," he said, holding up surrendering hands. "You don't gotta tell me where it is, just the general direction so I can find me peeps."

The ghost huffed, then finally said, "Head toward the fifth floor."

"Thanks," he grinned, then made his way up

It seemed the castle was waking up, and he passed by several students on his journey, yelling out insults at a few that would gawk at him and whisper to their friends. He finally found a group of strangling Gryffindors, and he followed them down a long hallway. He looked down the staircases they were descending, and at the front of the group were three boys with red hair. He grinned, recognising them.

"Oi!" he called out. "Ron! Fred! George!"

The three stopped and spun around to look at him. There were several students on the stairs between them, though, who had also stopped to gape. He tried pushing through them, got frustrated, and finally just hopped on the banister and slid the rest of the way down, several students breaking out in loud whispers as he did.

He hopped off and jogged to the Weasleys.

"Watcha," he greeted.

"Nice moves there," a twin grinned.

"Yeah. You know, you're already the talk of the school," the other said.

"You don't say," Hellion mumbled, giving a few onlookers v's. He turned back to them. "How you tie a tie?"

The three boys looked surprised. "You don't know?" Ron asked.

Hellion shook his head and pulled out the cufflinks. "And I don't know wha' to do with these doofers. I ain't never had this fancy of clothes."

Ron, who was starting to seem a little off to Hellion, broke into a smile. "I've got it," he told the twins.

The twins sniggered, rubbing Hellion's head and saying something about cute little snakes before they left. Hellion ducked his head but could recognise the playfulness and forgave it.

"Here," Ron said, leading him off to behind a suit of armour. "Give it here then."

Hellion handed over the items and obediently stood still as Ron taught him how to tie a tie. He then undid the tie and tried it for himself.

"Congrats, by the way," Hellion said, needing to make another attempt at the tie, "on your sorting. Told you it'd be fine."

"Yeah," Ron agreed, fidgeting with Hellion's cufflinks as he waited for Hellion to free his hands. "And I guess you too. I'm actually surprised you came to me with these," he lifted the cufflinks. "Malfoy and the others would know how to do this."

Hellion rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but they're kinda nobs, y'know? I wanna learn how to tie a tie, not 'bout every super-duper important event they've been to tha' required bloody ties."

Ron chuckled. Hellion finished with the tie and quirked out his arms for inspection. Ron nodded then gestured for Hellion wrists.

As Ron showed him how to clip the cufflinks on, Hellion continued, "They ain't tha' bad, though, I guess. They know loads 'bout the Spook world, and they gots tons of connections and such. Figure it wouldn't hurt to stay on their good side."

"Spook world?" Ron asked.

"Oh, right," Hellion shrugged. "Well, see, it's a bit of a long story, but let's just say witches and wizards have been tryin' to approach me for years. I didn't know 'em were _wizards_ or anythin', but I would see 'em do some weird things, y'know? So, I just started callin' 'em Spooks."

"Neat," Ron smiled, finished with the cuffs. He helped straightened Hellion's robes, then they shouldered their bags and began to make their way to breakfast. "Hey, Hellion… About the other Slytherins, knowing things about our world, right? Well… I would be careful… you shouldn't just blindly believe what they might say."

"How d'you mean?" Hellion asked.

"Well, see, some of them… Well, they're right gits, is what they are. They believe in blood purity and that kind of thing, being purebloods. They hate muggles, too, and like Malfoy's dad? He's always giving my dad a hard time because Dad works in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office at the Ministry. He calls Dad a muggle-lover like it's an insult, and he calls the lot of us blood traitors, that kind of thing. Figured his son wouldn't be much different."

Hellion frowned deeply at the way Ron seemed both angry and dejected.

He gave Hellion a sheepish look and said, "A lot of people are trying to say you're the same way, but I told my mates that you don't seem like it. That you seem alright to me."

Hellion grinned at him. "Thanks, Ron. I'm sorry Mr Malfoy does tha', though. A lot of 'em kept going on and on 'bout their families last night—I just thought it was one of 'em high society type of deals, not a… wha' is it, this blood-racist thing?"

"Kind of. They think we're better than muggles because we can do magic, and they think they're better than us because they're purebloods. Well, technically, Weasleys are purebloods, but you know, we're 'blood traitors'."

Hellion pursed his lips, turning that over in his head. He thought about pointing out that Ron told him himself just the day before that his family didn't talk about their "accountant" cousin. He dismissed it, though. because his next immediate reaction was to question, weren't they better than muggles because, yeah, magic was a pretty big thing? But, he didn't think being magic himself made him better than, say, Rufus. Or his friends at the library. The way Ron made it sound, it sounded familiar.

"You mean… like the way the Dark Lord thinks? Tha' whole war, wizard takin' over the world kinda thing?"

Ron nodded. "You-Know-Who," he said. "Only really his followers call him the Dark Lord—wait, thinks?" Ron stopped. "As in, right now? You don't think he's dead?"

Hellion stopped, too, to face him and shrugged. "No one really knows what happened to 'im, do they? But wha' d'you mean, only his followers call him tha'?"

Ron looked a little pained. "I don't want to turn you against your House, Hellion. Fred and George told me to leave it be, but I thought you should know…"

"Okay…" Hellion frowned still, getting a very weird vibe from the boy. "Lookit, mate, I don't think I'm no better than nobody, and I got no interest in ideals that got me parents slaughtered." That last he growled a little and took a breath. "Look, I just wanna know magic, find a place for me here. And tha' place ain't with a bunch of nobs and racists, let me tell you. So far, me dormmates seem like spoiled doofers, but they seem alright. But I ain't 'bout to be fallin' all over meself for their approval."

Ron chuckled. "To be honest, Har- Hellion, it's good to hear."

"Then glad to say it," Hellion said, clapping his hands and looking around him. He deflated some. "Bloody hell, where are we?"

Ron groaned, also noticing the empty corridor. "We're lost. I knew I'd get lost."

It took a while, but they eventually found their way to the entrance hall again, all the while talking excitedly about the castle and their future classes. Meanwhile, Hellion remembered Draco's warning about the Weasleys, and he began to worry. He liked Ron, they got on really well, and it was nice to be around the down-to-earth boy.

They had a great connection, Hellion thought. The Weasleys were poor, and though he was sure Ron also wouldn't be able to tell the difference between crack and baking flour just like his dormmates, they had a lot in common. Ron seemed just as comfortable with him as he did the night before, relaxing more every time Hellion would say something that alluded his own poverty.

He liked Draco and Blaise, too, though. They had almost the exact same sense of humour, and Draco seemed oddly attentive toward him, like he was wanting to pay Hellion close attention. Point made when he and Ron arrived in the Great Hall and split up, and Hellion sat next to Draco, who had not only gotten his timetable for him but also put aside some breakfast for him as the meal was almost over.

"Where have you been?" Draco demanded as he slid the stuff over.

"Went in search for the Weasleys, then Ron and I got lost. D'you know there's a whole room here dedicated to nothin' but paintin' o' hats. I rather thought that it might be the Sortin' Hat's chambers."

"The Weasleys?" Theodore questioned incredulously.

"Yeah, I like 'em," Hellion said definitively. "So, wha' we got?" he changed the subject, looking at his timetable.

He saw, though, Blaise and Draco give each other a look, and could have sworn Pansy whispered to Theodore, "We'll train him up."

Hellion attempted to nick a knife from the Great Hall on that first day, but it disappeared from his pocket by the time he was in his first-ever class. 

He tried again the next couple of mealtimes with the same result. He took to carrying around scissors, but he lost those after his first Potions class and Severus made him empty his pockets, thinking he took his Potions knife. After that, he really did take his Potions knife, and he knew he wasn't beyond simply filing down his own bloody toothbrush for a weapon if he had to.

However, his first week at Hogwarts proved enough of a distraction, what with classes, the people, and especially the magic, that he didn't much always feel on edge _all_ the time. Instead, it would creep up on him out of nowhere, like from a loud sound or if someone screamed—even though the screams here were either because of a first-year getting scared of a ghost or play-screams.

He could admit, also, he was a little jumpy by his whole new surroundings in general.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts—a fact he didn't actually want to know but was told so firmly by a portrait when he complained loudly, "How many damn stairs are there?" The stairs themselves had their own personality; there were wide, sweeping ones, narrow, rickety ones, some that led somewhere different on a Friday, and even one with a vanishing step halfway up that he had to remember to jump. 

And if that didn't already make Hogwarts an adventure to travel, there were the doors.

Some doors would only open if you asked politely, and a few of those disappeared altogether if he swore at them. There were some that required tickling them in exactly the right place to open, and then there were doors that weren't actually doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. Hellion, Draco, and Blaise played a prank on Theodore with one of those, telling him it wouldn't open unless he sang some fancy song pureblood families knew, and they had a great time laughing as he sang in high tunes: _"T_ _hree little maids from school are we!"_

Everything seemed to move around a lot; the people in portraits kept going to visit each other, and he swore the coats of armour could walk. It was a challenge to memorise, but one he gladly accepted.

The ghosts were about as helpful as that first had been when trying to navigate. It was certainly a nasty shock when one of them gilded suddenly through a door he was trying to open. The ghosts from other Houses were always happy to help out the students in their House, but Hellion tried once asking the Bloody Baron for directions, and that damn ghost ended up sending him in circles, laughing at him.

Peeves the Poltergeist was worth the Bloody Baron and three locked doors when they were late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on their heads, pull rugs from under their feet, pelt them with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind them, invisible, grab their noses, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!"

On principal, Hellion approved of Peeves, but if he kept touching Hellion, he was going to find a way to curse him.

For most students, the caretaker Argus Filch was almost worse, but Hellion and his Slytherin mates took him as more of a challenge, just like the castle. He would constantly try to get students on something, but it was all too easy to talk him around in circles until he either became so angry, he gave up, or until he confused himself and would just walk away mumbling. Hellion was especially good at that last one.

Filch owned a cat named Mrs Norris, a scrawny, dust-coloured creature with bulging lamp like eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she would whisk off for Filch, who would appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secrets passageways of the school better than anyone (except perhaps the Weasley twins, according to Ron) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. Most students' dearest ambition was to give Mrs Norris a swift kick, but Hellion had already started plotting ways Trouble could help in that area, particularly when it came to learning about these secret passageways.

And then, once they had managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic, Hellion quickly learned, than waving his wand and saying a few funny words.

They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Tuesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week, they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology with the witch Hellion noticed his first night who had dirt on her robes named Professor Sprout (Hellion had a good time making fun of that convenient name-pairing). There they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi and found out what they were used for.

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Hellion lost all interested less than ten seconds in. Binns would drone on and on, but eventually, Greg and Vincent would fall asleep, and Hellion, Draco, and Blaise wasted no time entertaining themselves with drawing on their faces.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was the tiny, little wizard from the feast who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class, he took the roll call, and when he reached Hellion's name, he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight. Even Hellion was laughing as the professor straightened himself, but he still made yet another point to ask to go by Hellion. The third time Flitwick called him Mr Potter, the entire Slytherin group yelled out, "Hellion!", and the tiny man finally relented.

Hellion had pegged Professor McGonagall right, indeed. She was a strict, authoritative woman. Their first day, she immediately gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

It was therefore not altogether surprising when Hellion was ordered out of her classroom half an hour later, his first detention scheduled and Slytherin minus a few points.

The class he had really been looking forward to was Defence Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he had met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they didn't believe the story for a moment. They began grilling him about it which soon turned into subtle mocking, and eventually, Quirrell let the class out early, booking from the room, weird-smelling turban and all.

Potions was the only class the Slytherins had with the Gryffindors, and it started out awkward. Hellion didn't get a chance to sit next to Ron because Draco, who was painfully obvious about it, herded Hellion to a seat next to him as soon as they were inside. It got more awkward as Severus—Professor Snape—clearly favoured his own house, and when one Neville Longbottom somehow was able to melt his partner's cauldron into a twisted blob, their potion seeping across the stone floor and burning holes in people's shoes, he was all-out hateful, even while the boy suffered angry-looking boils for his own mistake.

"Idiot boy!" he had snarled, clearing the spilt potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville could only whimper, and Severus ordered his Potions partner to take him up to the hospital wing, and Hellion's fellow Slytherins sniggered as Snape proceeded to blame the other Gryffindors for allowing that to happen in the first place and take points away.

Enraged by the injustice of it, Hellion purposely recreated Neville's mistake, though he was prepared to jump out of the way, and Draco and the others around him noticed just in time to get out of the way too. He then proceeded to demand the same treatment. He could tell he won a lot of points with the other Gryffindors by that, but the Slytherins didn't talk to him for the rest of the day. Actually, he was surprised he didn't get a lecture of some kind when Severus held him back to empty his pockets.

He did notice, though, that Severus seemed to really hate Neville. 

Other than that, however, Hellion could admit he was amused with Severus' creative insults. Clearly, most students couldn't handle it, but out of all his new teachers, Severus was the only one Hellion truly felt could handle him. The man could meet Hellion word for word, glare for glare, and though Hellion was smart enough to not trust any impression of honesty or complete authenticity, he thought he could at least trust Severus would speak his mind.

And one good thing that came from the lesson was that apparently, Severus respecting his choice of name and calling him Hellion was enough to sway some others who were very resistant to it.

His scores for the tests Severus made him take came back quickly, and he was surprised with how well he did. Severus gave him a few texts to read and study and demanded essays, but otherwise, Severus told him he wasn't that far behind other kids his age. Even if he kept mentioning how bad Hellion's grammar was.

Madam Pomfrey was a strict but friendly gal when he went for his medical exams the afternoon he got his switchblade back. Hellion charmed her almost immediately, and he had thought he had the whole thing in the bag, but she surprised him when she sat him down to go over his mental health by suddenly being immune to his charms. He rebelled, and they ended up spending an entire hour sitting in silence, Hellion not giving an inch. 

He was able to order updated prescription glasses lens, though, and despite being malnourished, apparently, and having some fractures and broken bones that weren't set properly, he was basically fine. He was excited to learn that a simple mouthwash-kind of potion fixed all his cavities and things, and he decided to try to sneak some out whenever he left to give to his friends.

After the full week at Hogwarts, Hellion decided he didn't want to leave yet. Even if things weren't all that easy for him. People whispered wherever he went, which grated his nerves something awful, and no matter how often he would yell at them, give rude gestures, and almost physically hit some, they wouldn't stop. Draco told him he was just feeding their interest by being so hostile, and Ron said something very similar. He couldn't help it though—he wasn't in the habit of rolling over and taking it. Severus wasn't wrong, either, about the other teachers not hesitating to dock points for his language, and with Hellion trying really hard to watch his profanity, his insults and confrontations to the other students lost a lot of heat and sometimes were just downright awkward.

"Wha' you lookin' at? Yeah, you! I see you, you fu-.. freakin', little, t- er, person, you! You stupid ar-.. butt-… something—leave me alone! Oh, shut up, Blaise!"

Regardless, he wanted to stay, which meant he had some other things to confront.

"Watcha," Hellion said, leaning down on the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall at lunch Friday. Ron was sitting there with his dormmates, but his brothers weren't too far away. He gestured for Fred and George to scoot down and gave what he and the other Slytherins called Nerd Weasley (Percy the Prefect) a glare to keep him away.

"What is it?" Fred asked.

"What's up, Hellion?" Ron asked, lowering his voice and turning so only the four of them could hear.

"You got a free period this afternoon, right?" he asked Ron, who nodded. "And you's?"

The twins nodded.

"Wanna come with me to check out the third-floor corridor?"

Ron's eyes went huge, but the twins grinned.

"What for?" Ron asked.

"' _Die a painful death'_ ," Hellion repeated Dumbledore's words from the start of term. "Dunno 'bout you, lads, but I wanna know wha's up there."

"We're in," the twins said together.

"I don't know…" Ron hesitated. "What if we're caught?"

Hellion smirked at him. "Really, Ron? Your concern is gettin' caught, not dead?"

"Shut up," Ron rolled his eyes. "Why do you want to know?"

Hellion was still smirking. "Rule number one, Weasley, don't always believe wha' you're told. I wanna know wha's up there, and if it’s dangerous, I wanna know wha' to do to protect meself."

"Come on, Ronnie, where's your sense of adventure," George was smirking too.

"Or maybe you want to be more like Percy, Ronniekins. Too good to break some rules? Going to be a prefect?" Fred added.

Ron pinked slightly. "No! Fine, I'm in."

"Brill," Hellion grinned. "Let's meet a floor up from the left-hand side. There's a Hufflepuff Transfiguration class that lets out at the start of our free period, and I think they take that route back to their commons."

"Wait," Ron said, frowning, "won't they see us?"

"Exactly," Hellion nodded. "Tha' way, if we are caught, we have witnesses tha' can say we were nearby but not there. With tha', we can make up any number of excuses. Plausible deniability, mate, rule two."

The twins sniggered and agreed, and though Ron looked a little nervous, he also seemed a little excited.

Of course, his little exchange with the Gryffindors didn't go unnoticed. When he flopped down at the Slytherin table, Draco next to him leaned over and whispered, "What was that about?"

"Wha' was wha'?"

"The Weasleys," Draco spat. "Aren't you done with them yet?"

Hellion searched Draco's face, seeing he was truly beginning to have a problem with Hellion's association with them. Carefully, Hellion said, "I don't think I'll be done with 'em for a while, Draco. We get on."

"Don't _we_ get on?" Draco asked exasperatedly.

"Yeah," Hellion said, putting some warning in his tone, "and I tell you one thing, for me, I'd still get on with you no matter who else you go' on with unless you don' get on when I get on with who I get on… with." Then he frowned. "I think I said tha' wrong."

Draco snorted. "You're an idiot, Hellion. Learn to speak."

"And you're a priss, Draco, pull tha' stick outta your arse."

Draco bristled, clearly not expecting a more serious return to his jab, but then Blaise fell down dramatically in front of them and began to complain loudly that his mother just got engaged again and was already planning a wedding in Italy. It was enough to change the subject.

After their last class, the Slytherins went back to their dorms, but unlike the others, Hellion raced to his room, took off his school robes and tie, rolled up his sleeves, untucked his shirt, double-checked he had anything he might need, then calmly stalked out and made his way up to the fourth-floor corridor on the left-hand side.

The Weasleys were already there, also disrobed, but with the rest of their uniform casually in place.

"Watcha," Hellion grinned. "Have 'em 'Puffs pass?"

"Yeah," George nodded. "Fred and I pretended to argue about whether or not to show Ron and his friend a risqué painting."

Hellion's lips quirked. "Are there any risqué paintin's?"

"Sure," Fred shrugged, "but not nearly as indecent as we were making it sound like."

Ron rolled his eyes. "I think they were just trying to get as many of the Hufflepuffs to blush as possible."

Hellion sniggered. "Well done. Come on, let's go."

Ron was the only one who seemed tense and nervous, but the other three were relaxed and casual as they walked calmly, discussing previous years' Quidditch stats. Hellion learned the twins were on the Gryffindor Quidditch team and could tell they were very invested. They weaved their way to the right-hand side, then slowly descended to the third floor.

The corridor was completely deserted. Portraits had been removed from the walls, giving off an odd barren feeling, and even the torches weren't lit. The afternoon's sky was cloudy, so the whole area had a dark, abandoned feel.

"This isn't creepy," Ron complained.

"Alright, how many doors, Fred?"

"I count seventeen. Windows, George?"

"Eight, but we're too high up. I don't see how anyone could climb up or escape."

Hellion came to look out the window with George, inspecting the area. "Agreed, not without a dead-stop," he said.

"So," Fred sighed happily, rubbing his hands, "doors."

"Which one though?" Ron asked, whispering whereas the others were just speaking quietly.

Hellion hummed, agreeing with the question, looking around the vast corridor. Fred and George bravely tried a few doors, which were locked, as Ron stood back and Hellion walked deeper in. After a few minutes, Hellion asked, "Are there spells to point out other magic?"

"Of course," George answered.

"There are plenty of detection spells," Fred contributed.

"Can we do that, then?" Ron asked. "Surely, whatever's up here, a detection spell would tell us where."

The twins were only third-years, but Hellion remembered Ron saying they both got really good marks. Each twin began waving their wands, quietly chanting between the two detection spells they knew, and eventually, they came together at one giant door.

"My bet," Fred said.

"Yeah," George agreed.

Hellion came to stand beside them, Ron not far away. George tried to the knob, but it was locked.

"I can pick it," Hellion offered, digging in his pockets.

"So can we," Fred grinned.

"But there's an easier way," George told him.

Hellion raised his eyebrow.

" _Alohomora_ ," the twin said together.

"It's an unlocking charm that works on most locks," Fred said.

"You have to ward against it magically for it not to work," George added.

"Want to give it a try?"

"Sure," Hellion shrugged then looked to Ron.

Ron seemed surprised the twins were willing to teach them but nodded.

It took about ten minutes of the twins showing them the right wand movement. They practised a few times further down the corridor on other locked doors, and the twins, seemingly encouraged by Ron breaking the rules with them, were more supportive than teasing to Ron, which seemed to aid in his learning. Both of them were able to unlock the doors, but not nearly as subtle as they would need. Ron's was over flourished, the door banging open violently and slamming itself again, and though Hellion's wasn't as brandish, the door still clicked loudly and opened halfway.

Deciding not to risk getting caught over more practise time, the four went back to the suspected door, and it was George who cast. There was a small click, but otherwise, it was subtle.

Hellion tossed his wand to his left hand and pulled out his trusty switchblade in his right, grateful to have it back even if he couldn’t just open it when he wanted. The twins didn't seem fazed by this, but Ron eyed it a little. The four of them, ready for attack even though Hellion and Ron didn't know any magic that could protect them, inched open the door and crowded each other's spaces to peek inside.

Hellion had a full three seconds-worth view of a giant, growling, drooling, wild eye three-headed dog that took up the entire space. He quickly looked around to see what else was there, noting a heavy-handled trapdoor underneath the beast's feet, then the three-headed dog was roaring and lunging at the door.

They slammed it, the twins sparing a moment to push Ron out of the way before helping Hellion lock it again.

They ran down the corridor, down a flight of stairs, and put as much space between them and the dog as they could before coming to stop in another corridor, brightly lit, and caught their breaths.

"Bloody hell!" Ron was the first to speak.

"We probably got its attention with the click," George said, looking at Fred.

"It's quieter to pick the lock," Fred agreed.

"Wha' is it?" Hellion asked. "Isn't tha' like one of 'em Greek myth things, tha' guard hell or somethin'?"

"Don't know," George shrugged.

"I wonder what it's guarding," Fred added.

"There ain't a lock," Hellion said. "Just tha' round handle."

"Yeah," George agreed, "so we got a deserted corridor, a regularly locked door, that thing, and an unlocked trapped door."

"What?" Ron said, looking among them as though thoroughly confused.

"Didn't you see?" George asked.

"Saw that _monster_ , yeah."

"No, it was standin' on a trapdoor," Hellion replied, lips quirking. "Wha' are the chances of it bein' a coincidence a beast like that just bein' there? Unless it's some important thing tha' needs refugeein'?"

"Doubt it," the twins said at once.

"I don't get it," Ron said, frowning.

They shook their heads.

"It's just weird," Fred answered Ron, "because, honestly, I was expecting something, like, someone messed up a spell over the summer and the corridor's flooded with poison."

"Yeah," George said, "or the corridor disappeared, and you would just drop down to your death."

"I was thinkin' it was dangerous storage or somethin'," Hellion confessed. "Lots of me Housemates talk 'bout artefacts 'em families got, so I was thinkin' maybe there was collection here or somethin'."

The Weasleys didn't seem to like that.

"No, Hellion," Fred said seriously, "not at Hogwarts."

"But our father would love to know who has what," George added with a grin.

"Yeah, those are probably illegal," Ron nodded.

Hellion crossed his arms and scowled. "I ain't never been a snitch, and I ain't one now."

The Weasleys carefully considered him but conceded.

"Okay, but, it wasn't any of that. It's a monster," Ron opened.

The twins nodded, and Hellion said, "Why would a creature like tha' need to be contained—in general, but also here, like tha', now? Don't it need exercise or somethin'?"

"I don't know, but you know who Hogwarts would get to take care of it," George grinned at Fred.

His twin nodded again, also grinning.

"Who?" Hellion and Ron asked.

"Hagrid," they answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Works? Perhaps?  
> Thank you so much for reading!! Special thanks to @vlunne for helping with the betaing! You're brilliant, thank you.


	7. The Keeper of Keys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A giant shout out to [CatyPie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caty_314/pseuds/Caty_314) and [Vlunne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vlunne/pseuds/vlunne) for being betas!
> 
> Violence warning!  
> Hellion gets a bit violent in this chapter. I've debated whether or not he should be as, well, overkill as he is, but where he's from, it's either keep swinging or run, so... :/ Anyway, it's honestly not /that/ bad. It'd be disturbing if he was real, but this is fiction.
> 
> I'm totally open to constructive criticism or taking another swing at the scene! So feel free to reach out, I just ask to please be kind.

Unfortunately, Hellion had detention with McGonagall that night, but the next afternoon, Hellion and the Weasleys made plans to go visit Hagrid, the Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts.

The four made their way to Hagrid's hut on the grounds, and the others informed Hellion what little they knew of the giant. He was apparently very kind, a little slow on the take, loved animals to death, and he not only took care of the grounds at Hogwarts but could also be seen around the castle doing things Filch couldn't.

It was a steep hill down to his hut, but at first glance, Hellion thought it looked homey. It was bigger than he was picturing, though probably small for the giant, and there were several gardens and vegetable patches around it. Smoke was coming from its chimney, and the wind took it spinning off above the Forbidden Forest, the edges of which were near the hut.

The four of them were in casual muggle clothes, much to the frowns of Hellion's Housemates, and Hellion and Ron stood behind the twins as they knocked. Hellion noted the crossbow and a pair of goloshes were by the door, and he wondered if the giant was a hunter.

There was a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. A loud voice shouted, " _Back,_ Fang— _back,"_ before the door opened a crack to reveal the giant's big, hairy face.

"Hi, Hagrid!" the twins greeted.

"Fred 'nd George!" Hagrid grinned. "Do wha' do I owe the pleasure?"

"Just a visit," George said.

"We wanted to introduce our little brother," Fred picked up.

"And his best mate," George added.

They both stepped aside to reveal the two first-years.

"Watcha," Hellion grinned, waving. "Did I hear a dog?"

Hagrid looked a little confused but ultimately pleased at having guests. He nodded and opened the door widely, gesturing them in. "Yeah, my dog. His name's Fang."

Hellion pushed past the others to see the creature, and he laughed when a big, black, wrinkly dog practically attacked him in greeting.

"Fang!" Hagrid scolded.

"I love 'im!" Hellion immediately announced, laughing and accepting the enthusiastic kisses. "Oh my god—hullo, hullo—hi—oh gosh—look at you, you's so sweet, hi, hullo."

Hagrid gave a booming laugh. "Looks like yer got a friend, Fang."

"He loves animals," Ron said, sounding both fond and anxious as Fang attempted to get at him, but Hellion was holding him back, still wanting the dog's attention. Ron tenderly gave Fang a pat on the head while the twins bent over with Hellion, loving on the animal. Fang's tail was wagging so quickly, it was making its own quiet swoosh sound.

Hagrid laughed some more, seemingly delighted.

"Say 'ullo, Fang, yer got yerself a fan club."

"I love 'im," Hellion announced again, accepting more drooling kisses to his face. "Had me a dog once. Named 'im Henry. Cute li'l doofer, a chiwinnie, but we got separated. I found 'im days later, dead under a car. Didn't have the heart for another."

"I don' blame yeh," Hagrid sighed sympathetically, herding them to a large table, hand on Fang's collar. Fang, however, seemed dead-set on Ron, and eventually, laid his head on Ron's lap, tail swooshing on the ground. Ron resisted some but still pet his head.

Hellion sighed contently and leaned back, finally taking a look around the space.

The entire hut was just one room. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yerselves at home," Hagrid told them as he started fiddling with the fire and a teapot. "So, another Weasley, eh?" he grinned at Ron. "Y'know I spent half me life chasin' yer brothers away from the forest."

The twins nodded happily, and Hellion chuckled.

"Well, now," the giant stretched before sitting down at the table with them. There were only four chairs, but the twins shared one. Hagrid looked at Hellion. "Harry Potter. Please to meet yeh."

Hellion held out his hand, "Please, call me Hellion. I don't go by Harry Potter."

Hagrid shook his hand, a little too firmly for comfort. "Yeah, I heard abou' tha'. Why don' yeh wanna go by yer parents' name?"

Hellion shrugged. "Never knew 'em. I've been Hellion for years—and there's so much around 'Harry Potter'. I'd rather just be me."

Hagrid nodded, but he didn't seem to like that too much. "So, Slytherin, eh?"

Again, Hellion shrugged. "From wha' I hear, we're the only House with a game room, so I ain't complainin'."

"You have a game room?" the three Weasley asked at once.

Hellion chuckled and told them about it. A lot the wizarding games were apparently very common. The twins made him promise to get the high score on Battle of the Wands, and Ron explained the basic rules of Snitch Snatching, one of the only games Hellion hadn't tried playing yet.

They fell into a nice visit, even if the rock cakes Hagrid gave them were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth. They pretended to enjoy them as Hellion and Ron told the giant about their first lessons, and the twins did an excellent impression of Quirrell. After some coaxing, Fang came to rest on Hellion's knee and drooled all over his trousers.

Hagrid turned out to be a fun person to visit with, speaking to the four of them more like a peer than an adult. The four of them were especially delighted when Hagrid called Filch "that old git."

"An' as fer that cat, Mrs Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her—Filch puts her up to it."

"Bastard," Hellion shook his head. "I got me a cat. Named him Trouble. I wanna see if I can teach him to follow _her_. I'd like to learn 'bout 'em secret passageways."

"Don' go stickin' yer nose out and get in trouble," Hagrid warned, pointing a large cup at him.

"Too late for that," Ron grinned. "I heard you got kicked out of McGonagall's class."

"Ain't me fault," Hellion grinned back. "She's the one who handed out matches."

The twins laughed at that, and Hagrid seemed to be fighting a smile. The noise caused Fang to bounce over to the twins, so Hellion decided then to begin steering the conversation.

"I wish students were allowed dogs. How old is Fang?"

"Abou' seven years," Hagrid answered. "Got 'im as wee pup."

"Are there any magical dogs?" Hellion asked. "Or are all dogs just dogs?"

"There are a few breeds with magic," Hagrid answered. "Abubis, Cerberus, an' Argos ter name a few. Some believe there's also the Grimm, never seen one meself. Then, o' course, there's dogs tha' are supposed ter bring good luck."

"Brill! I'd like me one of 'em."

"Cerberus, Hagrid?" Fred asked.

"Yeah, huge dogs, they are, with three heads. They're guard dogs, yer got ter be real careful with 'em. Vicious things. Yer be a right fool ter try ter get past 'em."

"You've ever seen one?" Hellion asked, feigning great surprise and interest.

Hagrid puffed out his chest some. "Own one."

Hellion gasped.

"Yep," Hagrid said proudly. "Named 'im Fluffy. Got a bit o' a temper on 'im, but he's real sweet if yer know how to handle 'im."

"Can we see 'im?" Hellion asked.

At that, Hagrid started to become a bit shifty and didn't seem to be meeting anyone's eyes. "Can't, sorry. Lent 'im to Dumbledore, important school business."

Hellion and the twins shared a look as Ron asked, "Lent him for what?"

"Now, now, tha's Hogwarts business," Hagrid shook his head, then passed the teapot closer to Ron. "Here, have some more tea. How's yer brother Charlie? I like 'im a lot—great with animals."

Knowing when a subject was closed, Hellion sighed and sagged some. While the Weasleys told Hagrid about Charlie's work with dragons, Hellion listened, but his eyes started to drift, having already heard it before. They eventually landed on a _Daily Prophet_ lying on the table under a tea cosy. The mention of a date—more specially, his birthday date—got his attention, and he picked it up to see it was an article about the Gringotts robbery.

**GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST**

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 23 August, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.

Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day. They claim the vault being empty is the only reason why the thieves were able to break-in as the security was far lessen without item(s) to protect, and after some questioning, they admitted that there had, in fact, been two other attempts at that vault on 18 June and 31 July.

"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.

Hellion remembered Ron telling him on the train that someone had tried to rob Gringotts, but Ron hadn't mentioned the date. That was the same day Severus took Hellion to Diagon. Hellion remembered returning back to the bank to withdraw more money, and he had thought he saw Severus leaving one of the doors that led underground. He knew Severus had found a way to follow him, too, and just assumed that if it was Severus, that was why he saw him. Was that the reason? Were they there at the same time the thieves were? What would be the odds?

"Ron," Hellion whispered, pointing at the paper, "this happened the same day I was in Diagon—with Professor Snape!"

Ron's eyes grew big. "Snape? You didn't tell me Snape was the one who took you to Diagon Alley."

Hellion nodded. "Yeah, he did."

"Wha' yer on 'bout?" Hagrid asked.

Hellion showed the article to the table. "I was there, the day of the break-in. The vault had been emptied the same day I was there. I could've been there when the thieves were!"

"Nonsense," Hagrid shook his head, snatching the paper from him. There was no mistaking it this time, though. Hagrid was definitely not meeting anyone's eyes. He grunted and offered them more rock cake. They all exchanged glances.

Hagrid had said Cerberus' were guard dogs. He lent 'Fluffy', which Hellion would laugh at that later, to Dumbledore, who in turn closed off an entire corridor for Fluffy and whatever he was guarding. Someone had been trying to get at something in a Gringotts vault, and what if Severus didn't return to Gringotts just to follow Hellion? Hellion would call that far-fetched, but Hagrid's right suspicious reaction was making Hellion link the two together.

As they walked back to the castle for dinner, the others with pockets weighed down with rock cakes they had been too polite to refuse, they immediately began conspiring. None of the Weasleys seemed pleased at all that Severus was Hellion's introduction to the wizarding world, and Ron started mumbling something about Hellion being influenced into Slytherin. Hellion would have stood up for Severus, but with how badly he treated Gryffindors, he figured he deserved it.

Regardless, the twins seemed to agree that Severus being at Gringotts the day of the robbery, and the Cerberus now guarding something on the third floor, seemed to connect the two. They even wondered if it was Snape who tried to rob the vault. Hellion doubted it, but what if Dumbledore sent him to empty the vault and move the treasure to the school? After all, it would have had to get to the school somehow if they were connected. Two birds with one stone, that, Hellion thought, and it seemed like Severus to wait to do it until he didn't have a pre-teen hanging off of him. Particularly if it was a secret.

Hellion thought that none of the lessons he had had so far had given him as much to think about as tea and cakes with Hagrid. Did Severus empty the vault? Was the treasure at the school now? Who else knew about it?

When he slid into his seat at the Slytherin table, he grinned at Draco and said, "Yo, wha' y’know 'bout Gringotts?"

Turned out, the Slytherins actually knew quite a lot about Gringotts. Their families had several vaults there on all levels of security, and most of his Housemates stood to inherit quite a lot… a lot, a lot. A dizzying amount, really, by the way they talked, and it made Hellion feel very uncomfortable.

Draco was the only one who seemed to notice this, but he apparently read Hellion entirely wrong. He surprised Hellion by telling him he was sure there was more to inherit from the Potters than he knew, as they were from a long line of prominent wizards, even if they were Gryffindors. And he offered to help Hellion find out.

Hellion agreed though he didn't tell Draco that if there were more, he would probably just end up donating it.

It was almost too easy to get the Slytherins talking about the Gringotts break-in, and Hellion learned that many of their families had fits over it, worried about their own vaults. Draco's father, however, had been able to find out that the vault in question had only been used for a short time, and the name on said vault was none other than Hogwarts itself, meaning Dumbledore. Hellion asked Draco if his father could find out what was in the vault, and something in Hellion felt a little guilty at the way Draco's eyes brightened at Hellion including him in something. The guilt quickly evaporated, though, when Draco started acting smug that Hellion had picked him or something. It was rather annoying.

That night, he wrote the Weasleys what he had found out before going to bed, and he had dreams of grand Indiana Jones adventures and epic treasure.

The next week started, and it opened with a new notice pinned up in the Slytherin commons that made most of them groan but perked Hellion up. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday, and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

"Excellent," Hellion grinned.

Draco gave him a seething look. "Right, because this is what I always wanted. Flying lessons with a bunch of mudbloods and blood traitors."

They had just walked through the stone archway out of the commons, and Hellion froze, causing Blaise to bump into him.

"Wha' you say?" Hellion asked, raising a warning brow at Draco. That wasn't the first time he had heard the term 'mudblood', and he had a pretty good idea of what it meant.

"I said flying lessons with a bunch of mudbloods and blood traitors," Draco spat, apparently not noticing Hellion's reaction. "It's a good thing it'll be outside, so we don't get stuck with the smell."

Theodore, Vincent, and Greg laughed.

"I dunno wha' mudblood is, but I think I know wha' blood traitor means, and I ain't impressed."

The others stopped laughing, and Draco gave him an odd look. "Excuse me?"

"Some of 'em blood traitors are me friends, and if by mudblood you mean muggleborns, then I have you know my mother was a fuckin' mudblood. So you best get outta me face when you spew that tosh before I go to spare."

With that, he turned and stormed off.

Luckily, he found Ron in the entrance hall, leaving the Great Hall.

"Oi," he said in greeting, jogging to catch up with him. He was with a sandy-haired boy and Neville.

"Hiya, Hellion," Ron smiled.

"Hey, wha's a mudblood?"

Neville looked like he had been slapped when Hellion said the word, but the sandy-haired boy just looked confused. Ron looked briefly angry then sighed. "It's a really _foul_ name for someone who is muggleborn—you know, non-magic parents—and the people who use it usually think they're better than muggleborns, usually because they're pureblood. The rest of us know being muggleborn doesn't make any difference."

"Yeah, just look at me," Neville said with a self-deprecating shrug. "I'm a pureblood, and I can barely hold my wand."

"So, wha'cha call me?" the sandy-haired boy asked as though becoming angry. "I'm half 'n half, me dad's a muggle and me mom's a witch. Spend most of our time on the muggle side of things."

"They would call you half-blood," Ron said with a sullen shake of his head. "Hellion, too, or worse since his mum was muggleborn."

Hellion crossed his arms. "Great. Well, I just announced to 'em lot that I have a mudblood Mum, so I just made me life easier, didn't I?" He huffed. "I figured tha's what it meant. I may get a few more detentions yet if tha's wha' they really think."

The Gryffindors chuckled. "I'm Seamus, by the way," the sandy-haired boy held out his hand.

Hellion shook it. "Call me Hellion."

"How's Hogwarts so far for you?" Neville asked, a little shyly.

"It has its up's and down's, I s'ppose. I can't wait to learn to fly."

Skipping breakfast altogether since he didn't much feel like facing his dormmates, he walked with the Gryffindors up to their first class of the day, chattering happily about flying lessons and Quidditch, but before they could part ways, Hellion pulled Ron aside.

"Alright, lookit… I know we aren't supposed to, but I bought me a broom at Diagon. Sev- er, Snape saw me, but he hasn't taken it from me yet. It's exactly the one you said you wanted, the Nimbus Three-Sixty?"

"Really?" Ron breathed, eyes wide. "Hellion, that's brilliant! Will you let me ride on it?"

"Of course, why d'you think I'm tellin' you 'bout it, ya idiot. After we learn to fly—or, I learn to fly, let's sneak out onto the Quidditch pitch some night and have a go."

"Yeah!" Ron readily agreed, not a single word of protest or worry about getting caught at his suggestion. "Ah, man, I'm so jealous."

"Don't be. I'll share," Hellion grinned.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Not the same, but I'll take it. We can go Thursday night."

"Perf," Hellion agreed. "I gotta get to class, but don't tell anyone, okay?"

Ron nodded. "Duh, I ain't that dumb."

"You sure 'bout tha'?" Hellion challenged, grinning and walking backwards away.

"I reckon I'm few brain cells more than you," Ron teased back.

Hellion laughed, shaking his head, then turned and went to class.

Flying was all any of the first-years could talk about. 

Draco was one of the loudest, complaining about first-years never getting on the House Quidditch teams and telling long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping muggles in helicopters. Hellion eventually made a seething but quiet remark that if he was all pro-Spook, why in the world would he even know nor care what a helicopter was, and Draco turned pink but didn't answer.

He wasn't the only one bragging though; the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he had spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who would listen about the time he had almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from Spook families talked about Quidditch constantly too. Ron had already had a big argument with a Dean Thomas, another Gryffindor who shared Ron's dormitory, about football. Ron, apparently, couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. He told Hellion it creeped him out that Dean's sports poster didn't move.

Greg and Vincent were only sparingly allowed on brooms growing up because, according to his Housemates that have known each other since they were young children, they were somehow less coordinated in the air than they were on the ground. Millicent and Daphne would argue about the old way women used to ride brooms, with two legs on one side, Daphne feeling apparently, they should bring that back and Millicent arguing that she would die before being forced to sit like a lady.

There was tension, though, between Hellion and some of his Housemates. Theodore seemed to be liking him less and less with each passing day, and Draco, though he hadn't said anything to Hellion, had started actively picking on other students, particularly Gryffindors. Hellion couldn't understand why he would even care, but at least there was Blaise and Daphne who didn't act as though declaring his mother was muggleborn and being friendly with Gryffindors changed anything.

Before three-thirty on Thursday afternoon, Hellion and the other Slytherins hurried down onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat grounds on the opposite side from the Forbidden Forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

Madam Hooch, who had short, grey hair and yellow eyes like a hawk, was already there, and they helped her spaced out about twenty broomsticks, lying them neatly in lines on the ground. Hellion had heard a lot about the school brooms, that they would start to vibrate if someone flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left. Hellion found that oddly enduring, but he still couldn't wait to test out his own broom.

They didn't have to wait long for the Gryffindors to show up.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" Madam Hooch barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

The broom Hellion picked was old with a few twigs sticking out at odd angles. He smiled at it.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Hellion's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Pansy's was wobbling a few inches above the ground like it couldn't decide if it wanted to obey or not, but both Ron's and Draco's flew up on their second try.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. The Gryffindors sniggered when Madam Hooch told Draco he had been doing it wrong for years, and Draco's cheeks pinked a little.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle—three—two-"

But Neville Longbottom, jumpy and clearly frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of the bottle—twelve feet—twenty feet. Hellion saw the boy's scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and—

WHAM—a thud and a nasty crack, and Neville lay face down on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher and started to drift lazily toward the Forbidden Forest and out of sight.

"Bloody hell!" Hellion cried.

Madam Hooch came bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist," he heard her mutter. "Come on, boy—it's alright, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are, or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'. Come on, dear."

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Draco burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins laughed.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped one of the Patil twins.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" Pansy cooed. "Never thought _you'd_ like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Look!" Draco cried, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

Hellion leaned over to see what he held. It was like a glass ball the size of a large marble and seemed to be full of white smoke. It glittered in the sun as Draco held it up.

"Give that back," Ron snarled. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Draco smiled nastily at him. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find—how about—up a tree?"

"Wait," Hellion said, stepping forward, "I wanna see."

Draco smirked at Ron as though he won something and tossed Hellion the ball.

"Wha' is it?" Hellion asked, coming closer to Ron.

"A Remembrall. If you've forgotten something, the smoke will turn red," Ron answered quietly.

Hellion smiled. "Brill." He then tossed the thing to Ron. "Hope Neville will be alright."

"Thanks," Ron smiled back, obviously very relieved.

"Hey," Theodore complained.

"Wha'?"

"What's your deal, Potter," he spat. "Whose side are you on, anyway?"

"Side?" Hellion sneered. "I wasn't aware there were sides."

"That's your problem, isn't it?" Theodore snapped. "You're as ignorant as a filthy mudblood! You strut around like you own the damn place, but you're nothing but scum."

It was dead silent as Hellion took that in before slowly approaching Theodore. He made sure his face was blank and voice even as he said, "You don't know me. If you knew half of the things I've done, then you would know better than to pick a fight with me. You wanna know which side I'm on? Fine. I'm on _my_ side."

Theodore spat at Hellion shoes. "We thought you were the next to lead us, but the blood of that mudblood mother of yours has obviously tainted-"

One punch, quickly followed by one more, a knee-jerk to the gut, another punch to the temple, then he was grabbing the sides of Theo's head, lifting his knee, and bashing the boy's head down on it as he jerked it up, them meeting with a painful sounding crack as Theo's nose broke.

Theodore laid in heap similar to Neville's, unconscious.

Hellion stared down at him. "Idiot," he mumbled, then louder he said to the crowd there, "Well, will ya look at tha'. Stupid doofer tried to fly and fell off his broom."

There was a beat of silence, then Dean Thomas said, "It was the damnest thing. Idiot's been bragging about flying, but I guess it was all talk."

Hellion grinned and winked at the boy. He looked to Ron, "Help me get this Spook to the hospital wing, too, eh?"

"Sure," Ron grinned, clearly thrilled at the turn of events. The Slytherins broke out in whispers, Pansy looking truly shaken, but Hellion ignored them as he grabbed a hold of one of Theo's arms, and Ron grabbed the other.

They were met halfway to the hospital wing by Madam Hooch, who was exasperated and furious, docking twenty Slytherin House points and swearing Theo to detention for a month. It was satisfying at the moment, Hellion and Ron merely listening to her on the way back to the grounds after they deposited Theo in the hospital wing. She vented about students getting themselves hurt, and it was even more satisfying when they resumed their flying lesson and no one corrected Hellion's story.

However, he knew once Madam Pomfrey did a full work-up, it would probably become obvious Theo didn't just fall off his broom, and he knew Theo would probably launch right into a rant about him as soon as he woke up. So, he wasn't that surprised when, during dinner, Severus came stalking toward him with a smug-looking Theo in tow.

"Yeah, yeah," Hellion grumbled before Severus could do more than open his mouth. "I'm coming."

Severus snapped his jaw shut, gave a sharp nod, then spun and marched out of the Great Hall. Hellion got up, threw his bag over his shoulder, and smirked at Theo. "You know, Theo… I think there's a muggle phrase you should really take to heart and remember."

Theo eyed him carefully.

As Hellion passed him, he paused and said, "Snitches get stitches."

He was pleased he sounded threatening enough to make Theo look suddenly wary and walked away without so much as looking back. It was juvenile, but Hellion hoped Theo would research what stitches were and hopefully be horrified by it.

As soon as he got inside Severus' office, he immediately lifted his hands. "I didn't do it."

Severus raised an eyebrow as he clicked his door shut. "You didn't beat Mr Nott into unconsciousness?"

"I dunno nothin' 'bout tha'."

"Really," Severus sighed, coming around to sit behind his desk. "Then you tell me what happened."

"He fell off his broom."

Severus was silent for a long moment, then drawled, "Yes, that's what several other students keep saying as well. Isn't it convenient it just so happened right after an altercation between him and yourself."

"How d'you know there was an altercation, officer?"

Severus sneered at the title. "Mr Nott told me he was confronting you before you knocked him out."

Hellion shrugged. "If Theo is seeing some kind of cosmic karma between calling me mum a mudblood and falling off his broom, I can hardly be blamed for tha', can I?"

"Did he now?" Severus hummed, steepling his fingers. "What else did Mr Nott say during this _altercation_?"

"Actually…" Hellion bit his lip then finally came to sit down on the other side of the desk, "he said somethin' a bit disturbin' to me."

"Go on."

"He said… he said they thought I was supposed to be their new leader? But apparently me not wantin' to bully people and havin' a muggleborn mum disqualifies me," he rolled his eyes, "but it's disturbin' 'em thinkin' it anyway. Is tha' wha' other students actually think? Tha' I'm to be the next Dark Lord, like you said at the Leaky?"

Severus took another moment to answer. "I wouldn't quite say that… A lot of the older students definitely don't, but almost everyone around your age seem to think something. Your Housemates think it might be a good idea to align themselves with you. Others think it's a bad idea based off the same assumptions. You, of course, are your own person, and I already know you have no problem voicing your opinions on the matter."

"Damn straight," Hellion said confidently, thinking of Draco Malfoy.

"One point from Slytherin for the language," Severus said with a wave of his hand. "At any rate, I encourage you not to let it get to you. Especially not to the point of… cosmically karma-conscious brooms."

Hellion smirked.

"I also encourage you to not be so quick to cut off and shut down any possible friendships, Hellion. I understand that a lot of your Housemates are from an entirely different world than you, but I know there is some common ground. Give them chances to get to know you, _really_ know you, and don't be so quick to dismiss them.”

"Wha' d’you mean?"

"I mean, Hellion, try making friends in your own House."

"Oh god, has this turn into a lecture?" Hellion whined.

"No," Severus smirked. "This has turned into detention. I have convinced Madam Hooch to allow me to hand out the detentions she assigned, and you will be serving them. Get to scrubbing those cauldrons over there."

Hellion groaned and complained, but as the slight bruising of his knuckles were pretty much a dead giveaway no matter what he tried to say, he served his detention. Unfortunately, unlike McGonagall, Snape's detention wasn't so much the chore or task, but the time given, so even though Hellion scrubbed the cauldrons clean quickly, he still wasn't allowed to leave until he served the full hour. It had Hellion fidgety because he was supposed to be meeting Ron at midnight to go flying, and he wanted to finish his Charms homework beforehand, so he could at least feel like he was putting in an effort to be a good student.

Once released, Hellion slouched off to the commons where he was able to claim a big, leather armchair in one of the empty Slytherin sitting rooms to work on his essay.

He was about half finished with it when Draco found him.

"Hey, Hellion," he said softly.

"Watcha," he said without looking up.

"Listen… I want to apologise—"

"Stop," Hellion sighed, looking up wearily at the blond. "Please don't. D'you how… _fucked_ up it felt when Theo said somethin' 'bout _me_ bein' a new leader or wha'ver? So, don't. I ain't nobody's leader, I ain't some future Dark Lord, and for fuck's sake, I don' want any… alignments, or connections, or God forbid… _followers_ ," he spat that last word out, it truly leaving a bad taste in his mouth. "I want _friends_ , Draco, so if you ain't interested in bein' me friend, please kindly piss off—and be sure to spread the word."

He barely looked at Draco during his rant, and he curled in on himself, focusing back on his parchment once he was finished. He didn't know what he expected from his outburst, but it wasn't for Draco to sit on the arm of his chair after a moment and say casually, "Okay. Friends then."

Hellion blinked at him, then self-consciously pushed his glasses up his nose. "Fine, good. Friends."

They were silent a moment, then Draco let out a loud snort. "You really kicked Theodore's arse."

Hellion sniggered, sharing a smile with the blond. "I warned 'im."

"That you did…" Draco looked down at his hands, shoulders slumping some. "I did want to apologise. For the other day. And today. I forget, sometimes…"

"Forget wha'?"

"That I don't have to go out of my way here, to constantly prove myself as... I mean, at home…" he rubbed his hands together then shrugged. "I just forget, is all. I hope you understand that I didn't mean any personal insult to you, or your family, and today, I was just… angry. I was just angry. Didn't mean to get you involved."

"Bit backwards thinkin', tha', but thanks, I'll take it."

Draco seemed relieved and relaxed more. "So, how much trouble are you in?"

"I think a month's worth detentions, but I don't think it's every night. Can't be, if they don't want me failin'."

"True. Still, must be a record. Didn't McGonagall give you detention again this week?"

"Yeah, but I already did it."

Draco nodded. "I'll look and see what the record is for how many detentions first-years get within their first month."

Hellion sniggered, "You do tha'."

"Hey," Draco said, straightening a little, "I got a letter from my father. He hasn't found out what was in the vault that was almost robbed, but Girtha, a witch with a shop close to Gringotts, told him that the days she saw Dumbledore go into Gringotts, he wasn't alone. Had another man with him once, then the same man and a woman with him another time."

"Hm," Hellion nodded. "I wonder who they are…"

"We could try to find out," Draco offered, eyes lighting up.

"Tha' bored, are you?"

"Hey, information is power."

"I'll give ya tha'," Hellion smiled. "Okay, so we know Dumbledore then probably put the treasure in there himself, but how did he get it out of there?" he asked, wanting to lead the blond into confirming it was Severus somehow.

It worked like a charm, "I'll get father to try to find out." He hopped up, going for the door as though he was going to do that right at that moment, but then he paused and looked back. "Hey, Hellion? What's a Spook?"

Hellion raised an eyebrow in question.

"Today, you called Theodore a Spook?"

"Oh," Hellion grinned, "well, see… let's say, I had a few encounters with witches and wizards before I even knew wha' they were—wha' we are. They could do these weird things, right? Spooked me out. So," he shrugged, "I named 'em Spooks."

Draco was frowning at him as though that was the last thing he expected, but he slowly nodded, becoming thoughtful. He said softly, "You know, I have this aunt… We don't talk about her, but I remember her from when I was a little. She used to describe muggleborns as sparks, that they ignite magic into their families, something pure and new…"

Hellion smiled softly, understanding what Draco was not saying. "Spooks and Sparks it is then."

Draco gave him a small, barely-there smile back and left.

His reaction and behaviour that night had Hellion confused. Draco sometimes would be that way, suddenly become someone calm, confident, and quiet. Thoughtful and open. He thought of some of the things Ron had told him about the Malfoys, about Draco's own comment earlier when he was apologising and now just then, about his aunt, then of course, he thought back to Severus' little lecture. That made him roll his eyes, but he told himself to keep it in mind. He wasn't going to go out of his way to understand a bunch of purist nobs who see him as… _that_ , but he wasn't going to go out of his way not to listen and see what he could learn either.


	8. Quidditch

"Finally," Ron hissed.

"I'm here; I'm here," Hellion panted, Trouble on his heels. "We had to wait out Mrs Norris. Trouble don't like her."

"Smart cat," Ron grinned. "Let's see it then."

They were just outside the front doors of the castle, and when Hellion presented his broom, Ron used the light from the windows to see it properly.

"Wow," he breathed. "I can't believe you got this."

"I can't believe others didn't brin' their brooms," Hellion snorted.

"It's in the rules," Ron shrugged, looking sheepish for having followed them.

"Rules are made to be broken, mate," Hellion tempted, taking his broom back and waggling it in front of Ron.

"See, this is why in only two weeks, you've almost single-handedly lost Slytherin as many points as the whole House earns."

"Yeah, I gotta do something 'bout tha'," Hellion admitted, frowning. The other Slytherins were beginning to become very cross with him. "But later," he perked back up. "Come on."

They began jogging to the Quidditch field, Trouble completely disappearing in the dark—Hellion could still hear him, though, and had learned recently that Trouble wasn't going to stray far from him, so he wasn't worried.

"We can use that spell your brothers taught us to get to the Quidditch things," Hellion suggested.

"You mean break-in into the Quidditch hut?" Ron asked, not sounding convinced.

"Yeah, come on! I've never even seen Quidditch before. You have to teach me all you know."

Ron laughed, "Well, I guess I'm already in it. Why not?"

They broke-in using  _ Alohomora _ , but the Quidditch chest was warded against it, so Hellion picked that lock while Ron re-explained Quidditch, even though Hellion already knew most of what he was telling him.

Each team had seven players: three Chasers whose job was to get the Quaffle through one of the three hoops at their end of the pitch; a Keeper to defend the hoops from the other team and prevent them from scoring; two Beaters to keep the Bludger balls away from their team and hit them to the other team with bats; and finally, the Seeker whose job it was to find the small, winged golden Snitch, the capture of which ended the game and awarded their team one hundred and fifty points. Each score with the Quaffle was worth ten points each.

They took the chest and one of the school brooms and brought it out to the pitch.

"How d'you wanna play?" Hellion asked.

"Let's get you off the ground and really flying first," Ron grinned.

Hellion agreed.

They mounted their brooms, pushed off the ground, and soon, air was rushing through their hair as their clothes whipped in the wind. In a rush of fierce joy, he realised he had found something he could do without being taught—this was easy; this was  _ wonderful _ . He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and he heard Ron whoop from behind him. This broom handled much better than the school ones did earlier that day. He barely had to steer at all. With Ron's guidance, he was soon racing around the pitch, doing loops and barrel rolls.

"You're a natural, Hellion!" Ron cheered.

And he was. For the first time in his life, it was like he just simply knew what to do.

After a few more rounds, they landed, and Ron had his turn on Hellion's broom. Ron and he were about equal—Ron having ridden plenty of brooms before, and Hellion with his new natural talent.

Deciding not to let the Snitch out for fear of losing it in the dark, they only took out the Quaffle, playing pass for a while. Once bored with that, they took turns trying to block the other from getting the Quaffle through the hoops. Ron liked doing that better, and Hellion liked trying to get past him for himself. Eventually, they let one Bludger out for a challenge and began playing in earnest.

They were about equal in this as well. Ron was quick, diving this way and that, and half the time Hellion had managed to fake left or right, Ron was able to tell what he had done and still block the goal. Hellion, on the other hand, was doing an excellent job dodging the Bludger that continued to come after him as he was the only actively moving player. His favourite part was finding different angles to aim, and once was able to throw the Quaffle in an arch, slipping right over Ron's head and into the hoop.

A sharp, muted bang sound interrupted them after a while, and to their horror, they turned to find both Professor McGonagall and Severus standing at the end of the pitch.

"Oh no," Ron whined.

"Shall we descend to our deaths?" Hellion suggested, not too worried. What was the worst that could happen? More points lost, more detentions? Their game was totally worth it.

They landed not far from the professors and shuffled up to them, Ron hugging the Quaffle to his belly with his head hung, and Hellion with a smirk and a skip in his step. McGonagall easily spelled the Bludger back into the case, and Ron wordlessly handed over the Quaffle.

"To be quite honest, Minerva, I think we both know who is ultimately responsible for this after-dark game…" Severus opened.

"Quite," McGonagall sniffed, giving Hellion a look. "The question is, what should we do now?"

The professors, for all the world, looked more amused than angry. "I believe we've discussed some possibilities as we watched them play," Severus said.

"How long've you been here?" Hellion asked.

"Oh, about ten minutes," McGonagall answered. "See, we've been debating. The rules clearly state that first-years are not allowed a broom, and as such, not allowed on Quidditch teams. Therefore, Professor Snape thought it would be appropriate for you two to spend this year training and be ready for next year."

"Huh?" Ron asked, eyes huge. Hellion couldn't believe what he was hearing either, gaping at the two adults.

"Professor McGonagall disagrees," Severus continued. "She feels that with the potential you both show, we could make an exception for you."

"You want us to join our teams?" Ron breathed.

"I believe Professor McGonagall is just impatient about getting a team that can actually beat mine," Severus smirked.

McGonagall swatted his shoulder. "Oliver is more than qualified to be our Seeker if we have a formidable student to take his place as Keeper."

Ron's jaw dropped.

"I, on the other hand," Severus said, looking sternly at Hellion, "believe Slytherin has a good enough team already, but the rewards playing might have on a certain… difficult student could be beneficial for everyone."

McGonagall smirked at that too.

"Wait…" Hellion said, catching on. "You mean use this to bribe me? As long as I keep me toes in line, I can play, but I'll be kicked off the moment I don't." He huffed and crossed his arms.

"No, Hellion," Severus said reasonably, "more like incentive to try harder. The same that goes for every player will go for you: in order to be on the team, you must maintain a certain grade point average, attend most of your classes, and most importantly… you cannot be on the team if you're too busy in detention to attend any of the practises."

Hellion ground his teeth.

"Talk to him, Severus," McGonagall encouraged. "Mr Weasley, follow me. Let's put up these things and discuss your punishment as I escort you back to your dorms."

"Yes, ma'am," Ron said, looking as though he didn't dare make a wrong move in case he woke from the dream.

Hellion grinned at him and clapped him on the shoulder. "When you hit it big, mate, remember those of us who helped ya get there."

Ron nodded dumbly, and Hellion grabbed his broom and followed after Severus, chuckling softly.

"Naturally, I will not force you to join the team," Severus began as they entered the castle. Hellion had scooped up Trouble and was cradling him.

"You just wanna use it against me," Hellion mumbled.

"No, I don't. You really do show great talent and potential. I think you would be a valuable Chaser to our team. Quidditch is fun, too, and it is a privilege to be a part of it. I understand so much of your life has drastically changed just within the last month, and a big part of that is learning how to respect authority again. I understand that, Hellion, I do. But I have to tell you, there have been a lot of complaints. The teachers are worried about you, and your fellow Slytherins are frustrated that you keep losing House points."

Hellion deflated some. "Yeah, I know. I don't do it on purpose…"

"Actually, sometimes, you do. You have a rebellion strike in you, which doesn't have to be a bad thing. But consider learning healthy outlets for it instead of just lashing out. Use your cunning, Hellion, I know you have plenty."

Hellion shrugged.

After a few moments, Severus chuckled. "You should see your professors' faces when I tell them you've actually calmed down quite a lot from when I first met you."

Hellion smiled despite himself. "I really am tryin', Sevvy."

"I know," was all the teacher had to say.

They were quiet the rest of the way to the dorms, and they parted with Severus asking him to consider the Quidditch team. By the time Hellion was snuggled warmly in his bed, he felt painfully torn. He didn't want to give any of this up—not his bed, not the food, but also not the friends he was making, the material he was learning, and all the things he hadn't yet explored and seen. At the same time, he felt like a big part of him was giving in and rolling over. Which, he could reason logically, was ridiculous. They weren't asking for much, especially compared to what was being given to him. Ultimately, they just wanted him to stay safe and happy, maybe learn something.

Eventually, Hellion was lured to sleep by the purrs of Trouble.

Understandably, Hellion slept late the next morning because of his late-night adventures. Ron, however, had apparently no such problems and had been busy telling anyone who would listen about what happened the night before, and as Hellion was leaving the dungeons for the Great Hall, he was suddenly bombarded by Draco, Blaise, Pansy, and Daphne.

"Is it true?" Pansy asked with wide eyes

"Did you and Weasley really sneak out to fly last night?" Daphne picked up.

"And got caught and made the team?" Blaise finished.

Hellion winced. "Yeah, but I'm not sure I'm gonna join."

There was a beat, then the three of them blanched and accused, "What!? Why!?"

Draco, he noticed, was quiet. He gave the boy a questioning look. Draco shrugged like he didn't care and crossed his arms, looking away.

"You sensitive tosser," Hellion spat at him. "Wha' are you mad at me for now?"

Draco didn't answer, and the others grabbed at his attention, demanding answers. Before he could get the full story out, the rest of the Great Hall was emptying.

"Great," he mumbled under his breath and started making his way to class with the rest of them. As he began his tale, because they were too insistent to not be told immediately, Draco surprised him by quietly passing over a couple of breakfast sandwiches. Hellion blinked at them, touched.

"Alright, alright," he said, taking the sandwiches and trying to catch Draco's eyes to show him how grateful he was. Draco wouldn't look at him though. "Lookit, I bought a broom before term started. I wanted to go flyin', alright? So, Ron and I snuck down the pitch—and I've never seen Quidditch before, have I? So, we just started playin' and were caught. Sev- er, Professor Snape wanted just to have us train and join next year, but apparently, McGonagall don't got such a good team and wanted to get us special permission to join now. Professor Snape thinks it would be a good thing to hang over me head and keep me in line."

Blaise snorted. "I would say so. Hellion, you have to join the team!"

"Yeah," Daphne agreed. "You realise you would be the youngest player in a century?"

Hellion slowed down, frowning at her with a mouth full of sandwich.

She nodded enthusiastically at his expression. "You can't  _ not  _ do it!"

"Why wouldn't you want to?" Blaise asked.

Hellion swallowed the big bite and said, "Feels like a bribe."

Pansy laughed. "Since when are we above  _ that _ ? You get to join the team, and in return, what,  _ not _ lose us more House points?"

"That's a win-win if there ever was one, mate," Blaise agreed.

By this time, they had made it to their classroom, and though the other three were still chattering away, joined quickly by some others, Hellion made sure to sit beside Draco.

"Wha'?" he pressed.

Draco shook his head. "Just forget it."

"No, don't be like tha'," Hellion protested. "Stop poutin' and just spit it out."

Draco shrugged, looking almost dejected. "Why did you only invite Weasley?"

"Dunno," Hellion answered. "If I invited you, would you've been able to play nicely with Ron?"

Draco sent him a hateful glare.

"Exactly."

"You didn't have to invite Weasley at all," Draco grumbled. "He's a  _ Gryffindor _ . You're a  _ Slytherin _ . You shouldn't be friends."

Hellion studied Draco, finding this reaction interesting, especially after the night before when Draco seemed so agreeable. It took him a moment to realise... Draco was  _ jealous _ .

He rubbed his face, thinking about how to handle this. A big part of him wanted to yell out that he didn't give two giant fucks, but another part of him was echoing with his words to Severus, promising to try.

He sighed. "Listen… You're right tha' he's a Gryffindor, so if I do join the team, we don't wanna give 'em any advantage. Maybe you could come with me this weekend, see wha' you think 'bout me skills and joinin' the team. You probably know just as much 'bout Quidditch as Ron."

Draco snorted and sneered. "I believe I know  _ much _ more about Quidditch than that redheaded wanker."

"Then come with me this weekend?" Hellion offered.

Draco eyed him, cautious, clearly seeing this as Hellion taking pity on him—which he was, so Hellion didn't pretend otherwise. Eventually, he relented with a nod.

"Brill," Hellion grinned, then leaned closer, "but don't tell anyone, okay? I don't want the whole lot out there gapin' at me. Just us, s'okay?"

That seemed to brighten Draco considerably, and he readily agreed. Hellion repressed the urge to roll his eyes.

"One more thing," he added without much thought, "can you  _ please _ leave behind pompous nob Draco and jus' be yourself?"

Draco looked a little miffed by that and didn't answer. Hellion just smirked and made sure to catch his eye as he took a bite of his second sandwich. Draco sniffed and began ignoring him, but he still looked pleased.

Much to Hellion amusement, Ronald Weasley, the youngest son in the Weasley clan, became immensely popular throughout the school, especially in Gryffindor. The twins and Nerd Weasley were over the moon for their brother, bragging about him any chance they got. Ron's parents were proud of him—though they weren't so happy with how he got on the team.

"I'm surprised they didn't tell me to stay away from you," Ron had told him. "You being a Slytherin gives them pause, you know?"

No, Hellion didn't know, not really, but he was beginning to learn.

Those who found out first that Hellion got on his team reacted with accusations about what cheats Slytherins were, that Hellion must have paid the team off, or that he used some kind of Dark Magic to do it. Those who learned first that Ron got on his team, their reaction then was to ooh-and-aah and discuss how talented he must be and that he was clearly a Quidditch prodigy. It wasn't fair, and the Slytherins viciously defended Hellion's good name—which was much harder to do than it sounded considering the whole reason they got on the team was because of bad Slytherin influence that convinced Ron to sneak out after curfew in the first place. It didn't much help that Hellion had no problem telling people where they could shove their opinions of him, and even once Blaise, who was a good three inches taller than Hellion, physically picked Hellion up and removed him from the corridor to prevent any fights from happening.

Ron basked in the attention though, and Hellion remembered Ron voicing his fears of staying in his brother's shadows yet still disappointing his family, and he was glad for him. There was even special mention of Ron in the  _ Daily Prophet _ for being the youngest Hogwarts Quidditch player in a century. It didn't mention Hellion at all, which embarrassed Ron and enraged the Slytherins, but Hellion was very grateful for it. He would have  _ hated _ being in the paper.

Considering Draco was the only one not outraged for him, he thought maybe the young blond and his influential father had something to do with it.

Draco did come with him to the Quidditch pitch that weekend, and Hellion was happy to see that he did leave pompous nob Draco behind—though there was still quite a lot of nob left, if Hellion was honest. Unlike Ron, Draco knew of specific techniques, and he swore up and down that how he was holding the broom during their flying lesson was a Quidditch hold, not the daff that woman was teaching them. Draco was a great flyer, too, and twice they raced, and Hellion lost despite his better broom. Draco couldn't Keep the goals for shite, though, but they played some with the Snitch. Hellion learned quickly that it was easy to beat Draco if he merely distracted him some. They worked well together, though, passing the Quaffle, and when they were finished, Hellion asked for Draco's opinion.

"You are very good," Draco told him. "You've clearly never actually played a game of Quidditch in your life, but you're a natural on the broom. You realise if you take this seriously, you could go pro after Hogwarts."

Hellion had frozen at that comment, then felt his face heat a little. "You really think so?"

"Yes," Draco answered seriously.

Hellion cleared his throat, and though his mind was pretty much already made up, he asked, "So, what d'you think? Think I should join the team?"

"Of course, I do."

Hellion nodded, making sure his composure was back before looking up. "Alright. Guess I'm a Slytherin Chaser then."

Draco looked stunned that he, apparently, was the deciding factor, and Hellion graciously allowed him his moment when he announced to the others that Draco convinced Hellion to join the team. That seemed to have won Draco major favour with their fellows, and Hellion couldn't find it in him to mock it.

Regardless, it appeared Hellion was forgiven he took Ron out initially.

Therefore, it was frustrating when Ron received a long package in the post one morning.

Ron excitedly got up from the table and motioned for Hellion to follow him. Hellion did, interested in what Ron got, and as soon as he was close enough, Ron shoved a letter at him.

DO NOT OPEN THIS PARCEL AT THE TABLE.

It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session.

Professor M. McGonagall

"Can you believe it, Hellion?" Ron oohed, leading Hellion toward the stairs. They barely made it to the first floor before Ron was ripping it open and taking a first look. "It's beautiful, isn't it? This is the best broomstick on the market. I don't know who bought it for me—we can't afford this!"

"I would say not," drawled a voice behind them. They spun around to find that Draco had followed them. He was giving Ron such a glare, Hellion wondered if it hurt.

Ron returned the look tenfold and apparently, couldn't resist.

"This here is a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" Ron grinned at Hellion. "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as our Nimbuses."

"What would you know about that, Weasley—you can't afford half a handle," Draco snapped back. "I suppose usually you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig."

"Sh," Hellion warned sharply, and the three of them quieted to watch Professor Flitwick come up the stairs and turn down another corridor, humming to himself.

"Yeah, well, I would rather save for a broomstick or get one on talent than go running to Daddy for everything," Ron shot at Draco.

"Ron," Hellion warned, not wanting to learn what a touchy subject  _ that _ could be. He could only imagine with how Draco talked about his dad.

"Don't talk about my father," Draco growled.

"Why not?" Ran spat. "Like you don't talk about mine?"

"Enough," Hellion waved an arm between them. "Ain't nobody talkin' 'bout nobody's dads, alright?"

"Why do you even put up with them?" Ron turned to Hellion. "You said yourself they're just a bunch of nobs!"

Draco looked like he had been struck.

"Come off it, Draco, I say that to your face!" Hellion snapped at him, then he turned to Ron. "And I put up with 'em because they're me friends too. Lookit, you and me, we're cut from different cloth, ain't nobody denyin’ it, and yeah, sometimes I wanna bang me head against a wall just listenin' to 'em go on and on 'bout fancy parties, but just like 'em parties don't make them better than us, us knowin' what it's like to go to sleep hungry don't make us any better either, alright? So lay off 'im, alright? And you," he turned to Draco, whose face was completely blank now, "lay off Ron. Him and me, we don't get stuff like this often, so let us enjoy it. Besides," he smirked, "it ain't like I'll be flyin' with him again."

Ron looked struck that time. "What? Why?"

"Maybe we'll fly for fun, but you're the enemy now, Weasley." He playfully narrowed his eyes. "Draco's been teachin' me some tricks, so I guess we'll find out, won't we?"

Draco snorted and puffed out his chest. "That's right, Weasley." He gave Hellion a quick, assessing look, then said, "Don't tell me you're going to let the money spent on that broom go to waste?"

Ron rose to the challenge. "Sod off, Malfoy. We'll see who's laughing after the first match."

Hellion clapped his hands. "There! Friendly competition! Channel it into Quidditch, chaps. Me, I'mma finish breakfast."

His two friends came to a very near-missed truce, and when Ron took off to go look at his broom properly, Hellion and Draco made their way back to the Great Hall.

"You realise your grammar gets worse around him," Draco told him.

Hellion chuckled.

Ron's first Quidditch practise apparently went well, and Hellion flew with Draco a couple more times before his own.

The Slytherin Captain was Marcus Flint, who was also a Chaser. The other Chaser was Adrian Pucey, the older student who stood up during Hellion's Sorting to yell at the school "HOW DO YOU LIKE US NOW?" A Miles Bletchley was Keeper, Terence Higgs the Seeker, and seventh-years Chris Sullivan and Victor Mathis were the Beaters. Hellion was replacing some poor tosser who only just got on the team, but the kid was the only one who seemed upset about it.

Hellion met with the sixth-year captain alone in the locker room first, who laid down the law.

"As per Slytherin House rules, you must maintain Acceptables in all your classes to be on the team. You must also receive an Acceptable or higher on your OWLs to remain on the team. We practise twice a week, sometimes three times a week if we're nearing a match. The practise times and dates are set so," he fixed Hellion with a look that clearly said he knew all about him, "you at least already know what days you should let stuff go rather than get detention. But as long as you actually make it to practises, or make up for the ones you miss, I really don't care."

Hellion smirked.

"Our match schedule is pretty much set in stone too. We will play Gryffindor in November, Ravenclaw in February, and Hufflepuff in May."

"Only three games a year?" Hellion asked.

Marcus nodded. "Everyone only has three games a year. We go against each House once." He then handed Hellion a thick leather book. "The explanation of the point systems and the Quidditch Cup is in there, as well as recent stats of every player on each team. I know you're friends with Gryffindor's new Keeper, but anything you can tell us would be helpful. We'll get his stats no matter what," he warned. "In there are also records of our best plays, play ideas, as well as tips and tricks. Every Slytherin team member is allowed to add to it—but it does not leave Slytherin locker rooms, understand?"

Hellion nodded, idly flipping through well-preserved pages. It looked to go back hundreds of years.

"We will provide you with uniforms, gloves, everything you need. You wear glasses, right?"

Hellion nodded.

"We'll provide you with prescription Quidditch goggles then too. Professor Snape always makes sure we have top-of-line supplies—doesn't hurt that lots of Slytherin families donate," he smirked.

Hellion sniggered. "I bet."

Marcus gave him time to go over the Slytherin Quidditch Bible, then he met the rest of the team, who seemed to find him fascinating. It became all business, though, when practise started. Marcus ran him through drill after drill, and none of his teammates were fazed by a single swear-word or rude gesture. They seemed to share his attitude, actually, and Hellion felt freer to express himself than he had since he arrived at Hogwarts. Marcus, Adrian, and he worked well together, and Hellion found it was a lot easier to catch while on a broom than on the ground.

All in all, practise went very well.

The team trudged into the dorms late that night, and to his ever-growing surprise, Draco had waited up for them.

"Watcha," Hellion yawned, coming straight to him.

"Hey," Draco smiled, then he handed Hellion a small plate of food.

"Wha's this for?" Hellion quirked a brow.

Draco shrugged casually, though he wouldn't meet his eyes. "You need to eat before going to bed. You are the youngest on the team, after all."

"Yeah, but… I ate dinner… and there's breakfast."

Draco rolled his eyes like Hellion was getting on his nerves and snapped, "There's around twelve hours in-between, Hellion, and rigorous training during. Eat, and come to bed."

With that order, Draco marched from the room, and Hellion tried not to grin after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 9 will be posted within the next hour!


	9. Troll in the Dungeon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, there is lifted text here. Mostly during the description and fight with the troll. 
> 
> HOWEVER!  
> In the midst is more of Hellion's narrative. Descriptions (of the troll mostly) and some action are lifted, but this is where Hellion's narrative begins to bleed into the "borrowed canon". If I'm doing this right, from this point forward, we'll see Hellion's narrative begin to take over any canon-lifting more significantly, so that at the end, it's a natural progression to strictly: Hellion.
> 
> (... y'know, the narrative, not the whole this-is-very-much-fanfic-and-will-still-follow-arching-plot-buddies thing... :/)
> 
> And hey, Percy gets to be a Gryffindor!  
> It's August, so Happy Halloween everyone!
> 
> !!!!  
> If anyone reading this has experience with troubled kids, and I'm incorrectly representing how competent adults would approach someone like Hellion, please just let me know. I will gladly make corrections! (And /want/ to make corrections!)

With classes during the day and Quidditch practise or detention at night on top of homework, the weeks at Hogwarts flew by until Hellion couldn't believe he had been there for two months already.

Once they got past the basics, his lessons became incredibly more interesting and fully held his attention. McGonagall even awarded Slytherin five whole points the first time he went through an entire lesson without interrupting her. (In fact, the first time he went through a whole day without losing any House point, all of Slytherin celebrated.) It was a struggle at first, keeping up with the assignments and trying to be good, but Hellion realised there was a benefit to basically living with his teachers.

They didn't just see him in class where he was a rowdy student, but throughout the entire day when he was more himself, and he thought that was probably why they each seemed to care more. One by one, his teachers would pull him aside or hold him after class to ask after him.

They were the same questions, too, which puzzled him.

How was his home life? How was his past schooling? What punishments did his relatives normally give him? Was he having any problems with someone, particularly any adults, in his life? How did he feel about his relationships with others? How was he used to dealing with stress levels? Flitwick even asked him to describe a normal day for him outside Hogwarts.

At first, he gave each teacher different answers, one more theatrical than the next. They clearly didn't believe him, but when they didn't let up, he gave them the bare minimum he could without telling them he lived on the streets and that a normal day for him was figuring out how to just survive until his next meal.

After he began cooperating a little, they met him more than halfway, and they each took the time to help him with his assignments and even give him extra credit work that brought him in a round-about way to understanding the material better than he could in the classroom. It even became a regular thing every Sunday afternoon for Hellion to have tea with Professor Flitwick wherein Flitwick would go into the history of this or that, and Hellion found himself understanding his History of Magic lessons much better too.

Madam Pomfrey tried once more to get him to open up and bear his soul or whatever, but then one afternoon she excused him from Herbology and played a game of dominos with him. It was a muggle game he was surprised she knew, but he was excellent at it, being able to add and do multiplication very quickly in his head. He wasn't quite sure what her angle was, but it was fun, and they chatted for a long while as they played.

Hellion couldn't say that things with the entire student body had gotten better, but he and they fell into a normal routine. He even befriended some more people in other Houses, mostly Hufflepuff, and they seemed to like him even if he did get them in trouble for talking in class from time to time. He still spent most of what free time he had with the Weasleys, usually either just hanging out with Ron or conspiring with the twins about what hidden treasure could be at Hogwarts. He even visited Hagrid often—well, visited Fang often, but Hagrid was there too.

Out of the Slytherins, he got on with Blaise and Daphne the best. Draco was turning out to be a complicated creature, and it was very hard to keep up with him. He ran hot and cold most of the time, but his actions, Hellion noticed, never wavered. However the boy's mood went, he was still attentive toward Hellion, saving him food if he missed a meal, proofreading his essays and homework, taking him out to fly, and constantly giving him a flow of information about the wizarding world the boy thought, for whatever reason, would benefit Hellion to know.

It was a little funny, really, with Hellion already having such a big reputation for being loud and opinionated, how often, when it came to Draco Malfoy and the other Slytherins, he actually kept his opinions to himself.

That was what he was doing on Halloween afternoon as they were leaving Transfigurations—keeping his opinions to himself and zoning out as Draco was telling him about the latest letter from his father and about one thing or another going on at the Ministry of Magic. It was almost as boring as Binns' class; so, it wasn't entirely his fault that he interrupted Draco when he saw Ron.

"Ron! Watcha!" he called.

Draco groaned. "I wasn't finished."

"Tell me later," Hellion shrugged.

"I can't stand her!" Ron said as he reached them.

"Who?" Hellion asked.

"Granger," Ron rolled his eyes, falling into step beside Hellion in the crowded corridor. Draco stubbornly stayed by his other side. "Miss Perfect Hermione Granger."

"I'll agree with that," Draco huffed.

"What'd she do now?" Hellion asked.

"Just being a brown-nosed teacher pet, as always. It's no wonder no one can stand her—she's a nightmare, honestly."

Someone knocked between Hellion and Draco, pushing past them as they hurried up the corridor. It was Hermione Granger herself, and Hellion saw tears in her eyes.

"I think she heard us," Hellion stated.

"So?" Ron said, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. "She must've noticed she's got no friends."

"My, my, Weasley," Draco sneered. "No bleeding heart for the…" he paused then smiled at Hellion. "No bleeding heart for the Spark?"

"The what?" Ron frowned, already looking very defensive.

"Muggleborns," Hellion answered. "We're callin' 'em Sparks now."

"So… Sparks and Spooks?"

Hellion and Draco nodded.

"Whatever," Ron shook his head. "I've got to go. Oh, and, Malfoy? Eat dung."

Draco opened his mouth to retort, but Ron was already weaving through the crowd in another direction.

Hellion laughed.

"Shut up," Draco spat, cheeks a little pink. "Stupid Weasley."

However stupid Draco thought of Ron, later that evening as they made their way to the Halloween feast, it was Draco that pointed out a very awkward looking Ron in the entrance hall. Hellion grinned at him and walked over to the Gryffindor, Draco following.

"Wha's the crack?" Hellion asked.

Ron bit his lip and tried shrugging like he didn't care. "Oh, nothing."

"Wha'?" Hellion asked, smiling a little.

"Is it about Granger?" Draco asked, looking fully interested.

Ron shrugged again then sighed. "I just heard Parvati telling Lavender that Hermione is crying in the girls' loo. She didn't go to our last class either. I reckon she's been at it a while."

"Yikes," Hellion said, feeling Ron's awkwardness. Draco looked like he felt it, too, but was dead-set on ignoring it. "Well… Wha're'ya gonna do?"

"I guess apologise," Ron conceded. "Maybe—oh wow," Ron's eyes went huge.

Hellion turned to see what had gotten Ron's attention, and any thoughts of Granger was driven from his mind as he took in the Great Hall's Halloween decorations.

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The boys hurried to their separate tables without so much as a goodbye. The feast appeared instantly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

"Oh, I'mma eat all this, this time," Hellion announced, rubbing his hands together.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked.

"Me stomach's better! It's used to food again, wha' with proper meals and me gettin' to eat everyday now. I'mma eat all 'em desserts."

Hellion was so excited at the prospect of the feast, it took him a minute to realise exactly what he said. Slowly, he looked up to see Draco and Blaise wearing the same worried frowns, staring at him.

"Er… I mean…" he worried his lip, trying to think of something quick.

Draco recovered first, shaking his head. "The spread does look delicious. Bet I can eat more tart than you."

"Wait a minute," Blaise said, "what do you mean you get to eat everyday now- oof!"

Draco had elbowed Blaise, hard. "We're just talking about the feast, Blaise, gosh."

Hellion snorted and gave Draco a thankful look. "Yeah, Blaise, we're just talkin' 'bout the feast."

Blaise got the hint, but not without a sharp glare to Draco, and afterwards, it seemed Blaise had suddenly developed a tendency to pass every plate to Hellion and crowd his space with dishes.

Hellion was just helping himself to roast when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll—in the dungeons—thought you ought to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was a long beat of silence before an uproar broke out across the hall. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Dumbledore's wand to bring the silence back.

"Prefects," the Headmaster rumbled, "lead your House back to the dormitories immediately!"

"BUT THAT'S IN THE DUNGEONS!" Hellion bellowed, and immediately several Slytherins followed his lead, yelling out protests and exclamations as the other Houses were shuffling out. Severus charged to their table, robes flowing around him. He shouted out orders to the prefects then hurried from the Hall. Hellion almost wanted to cry out for him to come back.

Gemma rounded up the first-years. "This way, this way," she told them.

"We can't go to the dungeons!" Draco yelled, obviously terrified.

"We're not, come on," Gemma said, shoving them along.

They stumbled toward the stairs off the Great Hall, going upward, and ended behind a bunch of Gryffindors that almost collided with a larger group of Ravenclaws.

"Follow me!" Nerd Weasley was yelling. "Stick together, first-years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first-years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!"

Despite the danger, Hellion couldn't help but share an eye roll with Draco, but then Draco's hand shot out and grabbed Hellion's arm in a strong grip.

"Granger," Draco hissed.

"Wha'?"

"The toilets," Draco said, eyes wide. "Granger's bloody crybabying—she doesn't know about the troll."

"Fuck," Hellion breathed.

They both turned, yelling out Gemma's name.

"What?" she yelled back.

"There's a Gryffindor loose!" Hellion shouted. "Hermione Granger is in the girls' toilets! She doesn't know about the troll!"

Gemma froze for a moment, looking like she wanted to question them, then swore under her breath and yelled, "Stay here! Wait, you can't… fine, follow me, everyone, first-years, this way." She hurried them down the corridor the Gryffindors were led to. When they saw the Gryffindors up ahead, Gemma shouted, "Weasley! Weasley—you got a first-year loose!"

Nerd Weasley stopped and frowned at her. "What?"

"What's her name?" Gemma asked Hellion and Draco.

"Hermione Granger," Hellion answered.

Ron groaned from where he was by his brother, and the first-year girls gasped.

Percy the Prefect surveyed his little group then paled. "Where is she?"

"Girls' toilets," Hellion, Draco, and Ron answered immediately.

"Alright," Percy breathed, "do you know which one?"

"Yeah," Ron answered.

"Alright. Come on, and you two," he pointed to Hellion and Draco, "come with me. Farley?" he looked to Gemma.

Gemma nodded. "I've got them."

"Good. First-years, you go with the Slytherins-"

"To the dungeons?!" Gryffindor Lavender Brown squeaked. "That's not fair!"

“Oh, but it would be fair for us?” Pansy snapped.

"Hush! No," Gemma answered Brown, "we're going to the Charm's classroom—it's big enough to hold us. Come on, hurry up, Gryffindor and Slytherin first-years, follow me please!"

Gemma led them back down the corridor while Hellion, Draco, and Ron stayed behind with Percy.

"What do you need us for?" Draco sneered.

"I need you to show me where Miss Granger is," Percy snapped. "Ron, lead the way—hurry now. Do any of you know where she might be if she isn't in the loo?"

They shook their heads, Ron a little pale, and he hurried down the corridor, Percy following quickly. Hellion and Draco shared an annoyed look, but followed, preferring to be by a prefect, even if it was Nerd Weasley.

"Ron could have showed you," Hellion still protested when they caught up.

"By myself?" Ron asked, looking horrified at the thought.

"You are Gryffindor, aren't you?" Draco questioned, smirking a little. "Where's your courage?"

"Where's yours?" Percy snapped. "Don't want to save a fellow student?"

"There's a troll on the loose!" Hellion argued. "It could kill us!"

Percy rolled his eyes and mumbled something about bloody Slytherins. When they turned a corridor, they heard hurried footsteps, and Hellion craned his neck to see the tail end of Severus' black robes scurrying up some stairs. He frowned, realising Severus was heading to the third-floor corridor.

"Interesting," he mumbled.

"It's down here," Ron said, rushing forward, but suddenly Percy jerked out an arm to stop them.

"Smell that?" Percy breathed.

Hellion sniffed, and a foul stench reached his nostrils, like a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seemed to clean. He was used to the smell, but he couldn't say he had been missing it.

And then they heard it—a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. Percy pointed, herding them off toward a wall. At the end of the passage to the left, something huge was moving toward them. They shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.

It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite grey, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with a flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was horrible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor since its arms were so long.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

"The key's in the lock," Hellion whispered. "We could lock it in."

"Hellion," Draco pulled on his sleeve, " _that_ is the girls' toilet."

"Fuck!"

Percy sent him look for the profanity but didn't comment.

"What are we going to do?" Ron asked.

"I'm thinking," Percy answered.

"Oh, well, take your time," Hellion snapped.

Hellion was trying to think, too, though, suddenly feeling helpless, remembering Hermione's tear-filled eyes. Out of the silence came a heart-stopping, high, petrified scream.

"Percy!" Ron cried as Percy took off toward the toilets the moment the scream sounded.

"Stay back!" Percy ordered, but Ron was already running after him.

Hellion and Draco shared another long look, then Hellion charged after his other friend, Draco cursing behind him.

Hellion felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. He had pulled out his switchblade, but the damn thing wouldn't open thanks to Severus' charms, him not being in exact, immediate fatal danger that he couldn't get out of. He threw the useless thing as hard as he could down the corridor and pulled out his wand as his feet pounded after Ron.

Hermione Granger was shrinking against the wall opposite from the door, looking as if she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went. Percy and Ron stood behind it, wands drawn and gaping after the creature.

"Confuse it!" Hellion shouted, seizing a tap and throwing it as hard as he could at the thing. "Yo, fugly! Look over here! Look at me! Hey!"

The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see who was shouting. Its mean little eyes met Hellion's as Hellion was waving his arms, trying to lead the thing in the opposite direction.

"Yeah, tha's right! Look at me, you ugly piece of shite! Tha's right! Come at me, bro!"

Percy and Ron began shouting, too, going in different directions. Their shouts echoed around the room and seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared, sending chills down Hellion's spin.

" _Run!_ " Percy was yelling, "Granger, run!"

Hermione didn't look like she could move. She was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror. That was when Draco darted into the room straight toward Hermione, slamming into her then started pulling her. It got her to move, and she and Draco darted back out as Hellion and Ron continued throwing things at the troll and Percy was trying to hex it.

When Ron threw a particularly thick piece of porcelain, hitting the troll on the head, the troll roared again, charging right toward Ron.

"NO!" Percy screamed, and Hellion did the only thing he could think of. He charged and took a great running jump, managing to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll didn’t seem like it could feel Hellion hanging there, but apparently, even a troll would notice if a long bit of wood was jammed up its nose. Hellion's wand had still been in his hand when he jumped, and it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

Howling, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Hellion clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip him off or catch him a terrible blow with the club. 

He prayed, not for the first time in his life, that his death would be quick.

Then, the club flew out of the troll's hand, rose high, high up into the air, turned slowly over—and dropped with a sickening crack onto its owner's head. The troll swayed on the spot. Hellion yelled out a, "AH FUCK!" as the troll fell flat on its face with a thud that made the whole room tremble.

"Are you insane?!" Percy was yelling at Ron.

"It was the only thing that came to mind!" 

Hellion gave out a long sigh and got to his feet. He was shaking and out of breath. Ron was standing there with his wand still raised, staring at what he had done.

"It could have landed on Harry! It could have landed on _you_! It could have just made it angrier!"

Hellion left the brothers to their argument and kicked the troll some, wondering if it was dead. It was breathing, he assessed, and realised it had just been knocked out. He bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy grey glue.

" _Eeeewwww_ ," he whined.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look over. Hellion realised then what a racket they had been making, and that someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. Not to mention, if Draco knew what was good for both him and Hermione, he would have gotten a teacher.

A moment later, Professor McGonagall came bursting into the room, closely followed by Severus, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart. Severus, Hellion noticed, was also clutching something—Hellion's switchblade. As soon as his eyes landed on Hellion, the man released a huge breath.

Hellion grinned at him.

Severus shook his head, pocketed Hellion's knife, then bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at the three students the angriest he had yet seen the woman—which was saying something considering how miffed Hellion usually made her in class. Her lips were pressed so thin, they were white. Hellion was pretty sure he was about to get enough detentions to last him through OWL year.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" she asked with cold fury in her voice. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory? Percy, I expected better!"

Severus stood and quirked an eyebrow at Hellion, giving him a swift, piercing look. Hellion crossed his arms. "I ain't no snitch."

Percy threw up his hands. "For Godric's sake!"

Hellion snorted. "Godric? Really?"

"Enough," McGonagall barked. "Someone better start talking this instance!"

"It's was Hermione Granger, ma'am," Percy immediately reported, back going straight. "She was in here when we were dismissed. Harry Potter and I believe Draco Malfoy reported it to their prefect, Gemma Farley, who then came to get me. Ron also knew where Granger was. Farley escorted the first-year Gryffindors and Slytherins to, I believe, the Charms classroom, and Potter, Malfoy, and Ron showed me where Granger was."

"And you brought the troll along for kicks?" Severus questioned.

"No, sir," Percy answered. "When we reached the corridor, the troll was already coming in here. It was nearly at Granger before we intervened."

"Where is she?" McGonagall asked, looking around fearfully.

"Malfoy, ma'am," Ron said. "She was so scared, she couldn't move. Malfoy ran in here and pulled her out. Don't know where they ran off to."

In that moment, Flitwick and Sprout came barging in, both breathing hard.

"I say!" Flitwick squeaked.

"We were just told," Sprout panted.

"By whom?" McGonagall asked.

"Mr Malfoy got me," Sprout answered, holding her side.

"Miss Granger, me," Flitwick reported, shaking his head. "We met on the stairs."

"Very well," McGonagall huffed, then everyone seemed helpless but to stare at the troll. "Well," she eventually broke the silence, "I say you three were very lucky. Not many students, let alone a couple of first-years, could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. Misters Weasleys, I say you each won Gryffindor twenty points. And you, too, for Slytherin, Mr Potter."

"Hellion," Hellion automatically corrected, but grinned. "You mean it?"

McGonagall gave a barely there laugh and nodded.

"Hey!" Hellion beamed to Severus. "I earned us some points! Lookit!"

"Come on along, now," McGonagall said, ushering her charges out. "Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. Let's get you back to the tower—students are finishing the feast in their Houses."

"Hellion," Severus ordered softly, gesturing for him to leave.

Severus seemed set to escort Hellion back to the dungeons, leaving the other teachers to deal with the troll. Once a few floors below, Severus pulled out Hellion's switchblade and handed it over.

"Y'know…" Hellion said, studying the thing, "I could've really used this. Instead, I had to jump on the troll to keep it away from Ron."

Severus didn't immediately answer, so Hellion pressed.

"You said I would be safe here, tha' I wouldn't need this."

"I know."

"Well, guess wha', Sevvy, I needed this."

"I know," Severus sighed. He was already walking with a slight limp, but with that sigh, it became more pronounced. They turned a corridor and began descending to the dungeons "Allow me to explain. The reason why the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is closed off is the same reason why a damn troll got into the castle."

"The thing Dumbledore's up to?"

"Yes. You see, he is attempting to protect something very valuable. The troll was meant to go in the corridor as an added layer of protection. It was the task of Professor Quirrell to do so."

Hellion groaned. "Quirrell? Hullo, how dumb is tha'? Of course the damn thing got loose if Quirrell was in charge of it."

Severus, for once, didn't comment on his language. Probably because he himself called it a damn troll. "I do not disagree, Hellion." He sneered. "That man is useless…" then slowly, a look came over Severus that Hellion couldn't place, like realisation and suspicion rolled into one.

"Wha'?"

Severus blinked, then shook his head. "Nothing you need to worry about."

"No, wha'?" Hellion pressed.

"Just making some connections, is all. Now," he paused at the entrance of the Slytherin dorms, "are you sure you aren't injured anywhere?"

Hellion looked down at himself. "I don't think so? Scraped knee. Wha' 'bout you? Why you limpin’?"

"I'm fine," he dismissed. "I want you to go to Pomfrey first thing in the morning, regardless."

Hellion nodded.

"Get plenty of rest—I don't want you staying up late, especially after tonight. Whatever you do, _stay here_ and obey curfew. We are going to be searching the castle tonight to make sure we are secure, so if you want to stay safe, _stay here_."

"Sure, Sevvy," Hellion nodded again. "But if this is gonna keep happenin', I want 'em charms off me knife."

Severus raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Goodnight, Hellion."

"Yeah, yeah," Hellion waved him off.

He entered a thoroughly empty common room, though it had clearly been set up for a feast. He took the opportunity to shower and change, the stench of troll still lingering, and by the time he was comfortable in his pyjamas, his Housemates began to trickle in. He didn't much feel like socialising, though, so he told the others the bare minimum, figuring Draco might like the opportunity for the spotlight instead.

However, it took quite a while for the blond himself to show up. Hellion had already retreated to their room, and when Draco came him, Hellion sat up.

"Fuck you," he said in lieu of greeting. "I was startin' to get worried, you wanker."

Draco gave him a confused grin as though pleased by that but also faintly insulted. He came to sit on Hellion's bed next to him and gave a huge sigh.

"Well," Draco opened, "I have detention."

Hellion snorted. "Wha'? How c'you possibly have detention?"

"Well, see, after I dragged our Spark out of there, we took off running down the hall. Well, I took off running down the hall, she tried to run back to help. I told her not to be stupid, that the best way to help was to get a teacher."

Hellion hummed, agreeing.

"Well, we took off in different directions. I took off to the dungeons because the troll was supposed to be in the dungeons, therefore, the teachers would be in the dungeons. That daff Spark didn't know this, of course, and where she went from there, I haven't the foggiest.

"I ran into Professor Sprout first, who was livid about seeing a student loose, but I told her what was happening, and so she took off. I then ran into Professor Vector, I believe her name is, told her what was happening, and she took off. Then I had the pleasure of telling Kettleburn, Sinistra, and Filch, luckily at the same time, and they took off, and _then_ I ran into the oddest, most queer professor I think we've got."

"Really?"

"I've never seen her," Draco told him. "She has wild hair, kind of like Granger, and these shawls with glasses that make her eyes like," he widened his eyes and circled his hands around them to make a ridiculous face. Hellion laughed. "She asked what I thought I was doing down here, I asked what in the world she thought _she_ was doing down here, and I have you know, she told me that she was reading the cards tonight, and the cards told her she would be having an adventure in the dungeons. So, of course, not to tempt fate, she began just strolling along in the dungeons."

"Oh, of course," Hellion snorted.

"Well, I told her the cards must have been right, because there was a troll in the dungeons. Before I could tell her, 'but there isn't anymore', she completely freaks, saying she has fulfilled her duties to the fates and must be off to read the crystals. So, I tell her, just to be safe, you know, which corridors to take back to wherever the hell that woman hides."

"Leadin' her right to the troll, right?"

"Of course," Draco nodded. "So, I get back to the commons, and no one is here, and I wait, and wait, and then I realise, that _you_ ," he swatted at Hellion's knee, "are Hellion, and trouble can find you even in Binns classroom, and I realised you might take the fall for the entire thing. Gryffindors will twist anything to make Slytherins the guilty party."

"Yeah?" Hellion frowned, oddly touched by the blond’s concern, though he doubted the Weasleys would throw him under the bus like that.

"Yes, well, again, you _are_ Hellion. So, I figured I could head to Snape's office, be there when he returns and do some damage control. So, that's where I was when Snape came busting through with Madam Pomfrey, of all people, complaining about some beast of Hagrid's, and he had his robes up, like," he demonstrated holding robes up out of the way of one's leg, "and I'm telling you, Hellion, whatever beast he was talking about nearly bit his leg off. It was ghastly. Anyway, he got angry I was there and had seen that, told me I had no business getting more involved in the troll situation, and to get out. I have detention next week—first Quidditch game of the season!"

"D'you have it during the game?" Hellion asked, not wanting his friend to miss seeing him play, not after Draco had put in so much work with Hellion.

"No, but I won't get to celebrate with you when we win," he rolled his eyes dramatically. "Nothing's for it, I'm afraid."

Hellion chuckled, settling back against the headboard, getting comfortable. Draco copied him, and Trouble jumped onto Draco's lap, kneading biscuits.

"I figured Snape's hurt. I thought I saw 'im, on our way to the troll, headin' up to the third-floor."

Draco frowned at him, scratching Trouble's head. "What, the forbidden area?"

"Yep," Hellion said. "And Severus told me somethin', too, walkin' me back to the commons. 'Em teachers caught us, by the way, tell you 'bout tha' in a bit. But he said that Dumbledore is trying to protect somethin', and tha' the troll tonight was s'pposed to be a layer of protection for whatever it is, but _Quirrell_ was in charge of it."

Draco snorted. "No wonder the doofer got loose."

"Mhm," Hellion agreed.

"So, whatever else is protecting Dumbledore's thing is a beast of Hagrid's that bit Snape?"

"I guess," Hellion shrugged. "Which, er… by the way, I know what the beast is," he grinned.

"No, you don't," Draco immediately protested.

"Do to. First week here, me and the Weasleys, sans Nerd, snuck off to the corridor to see wha' was there. It's a Cerberus, with three big heads."

Draco's mouth dropped open.

"Yeah," Hellion agreed with the reaction. "Hagrid says Cerberus' are guard dogs, and it was standin' on a trap door, so," he shrugged again.

"Blimey," Draco breathed, picking Trouble up to cradle him as he purred. "A troll and a Cerberus… whatever it is, it is bloody well protected."

Hellion chuckled before yawning. "Hey, guess wha'," he said, scooting down to lay beside the boy.

"What?"

"I won Slytherin twenty points for tha' troll."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Congratulations. That totally makes up for the two hundred plus points you've lost."

"Shuddup. Oi, wait, you didn't lose points bein' in Snape's office, did you?"

Draco resolutely focused on petting Trouble.

"You git! I just won those!" Hellion cried, taking his pillow and whacking Draco with it.


	10. Quaffles and Scissors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday, everyone!  
> For those who aren't big Quidditch fans, please bear with me for the first half of the chapter. Trust me, you want to get past the game and read the ending scenes.

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy grey and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost, and the Slytherin windows had crystals around the edges. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows as well defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.

The Quidditch season had begun. 

On Saturday, Hellion and Ron were playing in their first match after weeks of training: Slytherin versus Gryffindor. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the Cup, and therefore House, Championship, but if Slytherin won, they at least would no longer be dead-last. Hellion could freely admit he felt the pressure to make up for the points he had lost his House so far, especially since he just didn't seem capable of not losing points several times a week.

Hardly anyone had seen Hellion or Ron play. Ron, because Oliver Wood, Gryffindor captain, had decided that as Ron was their not-so-secret weapon, they should gather some ground lost there and keep Ron's skills a secret; Hellion because Marcus and Draco were apparently very possessive. Ron didn't seem to be holding too well with the pressure, but for Hellion, each crack at Hellion or slur thrown his way just made him more determined to do well.

Therefore, Hellion found himself most nights out on the practise field or secreted around the courtyard to practise, and his days actively trying not to slip up so as to keep his nights free. It didn't always work, but he did try.

Hellion really began to count himself lucky for Draco, too, because he sincerely didn't know how he would have gotten through his homework without him, let alone be making Acceptables.

After the troll incident, it would seem things between Ron and Hermione Granger had calmed considerably, and she seemed to be just as helpful to Ron as Draco was to Hellion (although given, Ron didn't have detention like Hellion). Though neither Draco nor Hermione would outright let them copy off of them, Hellion and Ron learned that by simply asking them to read through their homework, they got the right answers anyway. Then they would compare and every now and then end up with better marks than either Draco or Hermione. They knew their friends would catch on eventually, but Hellion did find himself learning by doing it this way anyway. Especially since Draco had a bit of a habit of turning any academic lecture into something about himself somehow, but Hermione reminded Hellion a lot of his library friends, and he remembered things better from her.

Hellion couldn't say that the four of them were forming a group of any kind, but something had definitely changed among them since Halloween. He even noticed that Draco was no longer calling Percy 'Nerd Weasley' but instead simply called him by his given name. Hellion thought Percy had impressed Draco with his heroism that night, though he knew the blond would never admit it in a million years.

Hellion also noticed that after the troll incident, Draco began receiving more and longer letters from his father. He caught Draco burning some one night, and though Draco sounded normal when he answered that it was simply more fun burning them than just tossing them, Hellion wasn't sure if he believed him.

But he knew better than to press the matter.

The morning of the match dawned very brightly and cold. The Great Hall was full of delicious smells and cheerful chatter; everyone was looking forward to the record-breaking Quidditch match between two first-years.

Hellion was nervous, so of course, he couldn't stop talking.

"And the gloves," he was saying, "why can't they cover me fingers?"

"So, you can have a better grip," Draco answered. He was snappish and impatient but was at least still reciprocating conversation. He was also shoving food onto Hellion's plate. Hellion wasn't paying attention to what he was eating, but he trusted Draco's choices.

"We're  _ magic. _ We can  _ magic _ better grips on gloves tha' cover me fingers."

"There are gloves like that, but they're saved for colder weather."

"Col'er mm'n dis?" Hellion asked, mouth full of food.

"For god sake, Hellion, chew and swallow first."

Hellion swallowed but almost choked.

"Oh, for the love of…" Draco sighed, pounding Hellion's back.

Unperturbed, Hellion continued roughly, "It's already cold as bollocks!"

"Bollocks are actually quite warm," Draco said unfazed. "Drink this."

Hellion did, ignoring the juice taste. "I'm gonna fall off. Me fingers will freeze, and I'm gonna fall off."

"Then I shall follow you on the ground with a mattress," Draco declared. "Finish the eggs, here," he added, pressing a fork into Hellion’s hand. 

"Wha' if it's snows?"

"Then the pitch will be white."

"Wha' if I don't score a thing?"

"Then the others will."

"Wha' if they don't?"

"Then the Seeker will catch the Snitch."

"Oh god, Draco, wha' if Higgs don't ge' the Snitch? Or, wha' if he takes forever? God, Draco, we  _ depend _ on the Seeker—I could be playin' forever!"

At this, Draco grabbed Hellion's face in both his hands, ignoring Hellion's flinch, and forced Hellion to look directly at him despite the egg dangling from Hellion's mouth.

"If you're this nervous, just imagine Weasley, and he's the one you have to get past to score. Easy. You've got this, Hellion. So, shut up, eat, and relax."

Cheeks squished by Draco's hands, Hellion said, "D'you wan' me to shut up or relax—can't do both."

Draco actually laughed, dropping his hands with a big smile and slightly bobbing throat. It was nice to see. The blond seemed to be so serious and a little stressed lately. "Fine, eat and relax, but for my sake, please, stop talking Quidditch."

Hellion rolled his eyes, but agreed, soon going into a full-detail rendition of Star Wars complete with voices and impressions. It left his fellow Slytherins very confused, but Hellion enjoyed himself.

By eleven o'clock, the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Hellion was peeking out from the Slytherin locker room, and when he looked over toward the Gryffindor one, he saw Ron doing the same.

"Good luck!" Hellion called. "I'mma crush you!"

Ron laughed, obviously nervous. "Good luck! Going to crush  _ you _ !"

They gave each other a thumbs-up, and Hellion ducked back inside.

The rest of the team seemed significantly more calm than he was. The Beaters Chris Sullivan and Victor Mathis were treating their bats like lifesavers from Hellion's earlier rendition, and Marcus was flipping through the Slytherin Quidditch Bible.

"Alright!" Marcus called when it was time. "Remember, Gryffindor's new Keeper is a little firstie. Show him no mercy. On the same token, our new Chaser is a firstie, so all the mercy you don't give the Weasley Keeper, give Hellion. Higgs, try to put off getting the Snitch for a long as possible if we're in the lead, but if the lions pull ahead, snatch it. Bletchley, watch that Johnson. We good?"

"No," Hellion said at once.

Marcus nodded, and the team waited a moment as Hellion took a deep breath and released it.

"We good?" Marcus repeated.

"Yeah," Hellion nodded, and they exited the locker room.

Gryffindor team was already waiting on the other side of the pitch, and when they saw them, Wood had the team line up. Marcus did the same, and together, the two teams marched out onto the field.

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for them, her broom in her hand.

"Now," she said when they reached her, "I want a nice fair game, all of you." She gave Marcus a look that clearly stated she was speaking to him. Hellion forced himself not to smirk. He remembered once Rufus telling him that a sign of a good manager was a willingness to get in trouble with HR for the benefit of his employees. He felt calmer that, if Madam Hooch's look was anything to go by, Marcus would do the same for the benefit of his team.

"Mount your brooms, please."

Hellion clambered onto his Nimbus Three-Sixty, and he made sure to catch Ron's eye and give him a grin. Ron seemed to ease a little from it as he grinned back.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle, and fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air.

They were off.

The Quaffle was tossed and was immediately caught by Gryffindor Chaser, Angelina Johnson. The three Slytherin Chasers took off after her, but just as Hellion and Adrian were closing in, she made a neat pass to another Gryffindor Chaser, Alicia Spinnet. Marcus dove for her, having been above them, and Hellion changed direction to come up underneath her. The third Gryffindor Chaser, Katie Bell, darted ahead, arm out ready to catch, but Spinnet faked the throw and tried dropping it to Johnson instead—but Hellion shot forward and caught it himself, Spinnet having clearly underestimated him.

He went into a dive, flipping himself upside down, then back straight to race to the other end of the pitch. Marcus and Adrian were ready, just like in practise, and were flanking him, Adrian to his right and slightly above, Marcus to his left and slightly below. Bell got in front of him, trying to force him to verge left and above where Johnson was getting into place. Instead, Hellion dipped down and sideways, Marcus readily moving out of his way so he could avoid Spinnet. He barrel-rolled away from her, gained some speed, and as he got closer to the hoops, got ready to throw.

Ron was there, clutching his broom hard, and as Hellion threw a now well-practised throw, Ron dove for the Quaffle. He missed it with his hands, but he was already turning his broom and smacked the Quaffle away from the hoop with the tail of it.

"Rude!" Hellion yelled at him, giving him a grin as Ron grinned back, shrugging.

Bell caught the Quaffle and took off to the other end, but before she could get any momentum, a Bludger came flying from somewhere to the right of them and hitting her right in the back of the head. 

She dropped the Quaffle, and Adrian was there to catch it. He dove, did a loop, and positioned himself on the left side of the pitch, Hellion above him, Marcus below. Another Bludger came flying at Adrian, who jerked away from it and dropped the Quaffle too. Johnson was there and ready, wrestling with Marcus, and took possession of it. Spinnet had blocked Hellion from getting into a defence position, and thanks to that well-placed Bludger to Adrian (obviously from one of the Weasley twins, the Gryffindor Beaters) Johnson had a clear field to race ahead. Chris hit a Bludger to her, but she dodged it. She got into position, Miles Bletchley crouched on his broom to be ready to Keep, but she dipped left, threw right, and Gryffindor scored.

"I TOLD YOU TO WATCH JOHNSON!" Marcus bellowed at Miles.

The Quaffle came pelting back, and Hellion came just short of fouling to catch it before Bell. He dove, heading straight to the ground while dodging left then right against two Bludgers, giving the Gryffindor Chasers something to actually chase. 

Marcus and Adrian burrow on straight to the other side as Hellion did a few zigzags, trying to distract the Gryffindor Chasers before he was back to normal play atmosphere where Adrian was waiting in position. Hellion hurled the Quaffle to him. Adrian caught it, sped forward, pretended to drop it to divert Johnson, and hurled it over Bell to Marcus.

Marcus caught it, barrel-rolled around Spinnet and tossed it to Hellion. Hellion caught it, spun around a furious Bell, and chucked it to the left hoop. Ron, who wasn't prepared for that last pass, missed, and Slytherin scored.

The Quaffle came pelting back once more, but this time, Spinnet caught it. She passed it to Bell, who passed it back to her over Adrian, and Hellion dove, blocking Spinnet from passing it to Johnson. Adrian dove when Hellion did and was there to catch missed pass. They flew around each other, changing direction, but then the crowd noise rose, and two people came rushing down onto their play where they all froze on their brooms to watch. 

It was Terence Higgs and Oliver Wood, chasing the Snitch. 

Wood was gaining and was so very close to catching it. Marcus swore loudly, and the next thing Hellion knew, Marcus was speeding off toward the Seekers and throwing himself in front of Wood, who crashed into him. They both spun off course, holding onto to wildly turning brooms.

Madam Hooch yelled at Marcus, declaring a foul and awarding Gryffindor a penalty shot. The Snitch, however, was lost in the confusion. Hellion breathed a sigh of relief.

Spinnet took the penalty, giving Gryffindor another score, and the Quaffle was pelted back, caught by Bell.

The Slytherin Chasers got into position, Hellion above the rest, trying to hover Johnson. He had just dipped, ready to catch the Quaffle if Marcus got it from Bell, when it happened: his broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. 

For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees, having lost speed.

Embarrassed and confused, he tried to jerk forward, but it happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. He tried to turn, perhaps get closer to the stands or ground—debating whether or not to yell for a time-out—and then he realised that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't direct it. It began zigzagging through the air, every now and then making violent swishing movements, almost unseating him.

"Hellion!" Marcus yelled, sounding equal parts annoyed and worried.

"Help!" Hellion called back. His broom bucked higher and higher, and Hellion flattened himself on it, holding on tight as his Nimbus did its best to throw him off. It began rolling over and over with him only just managing to hold on.

Then it stopped just for a moment before it gave a wild jerk and spin, and Hellion slipped.

Only by the strength of his cold, gloveless fingers of one hand was Hellion able to hold on. He gulped, trying not to look down, and swung his other hand up to grip the still-bucking broom too. He couldn't pull himself up, though, and was now just dangling from it, completely at its mercy.

"Hellion!" several people on the pitch were calling. He seemed to have halted the entire game.

Several players tried reaching him, but the Weasley twins the only ones who got anywhere close. Hellion's broom kept jerking him out of the way, raising him higher and higher.

Eventually, Hellion couldn't help but look down, and pure terror stroke through him as he saw just how high up he was.

"HELP! HELP ME!"

The broom began vibrating violently, making one of his hands slip. He yelled out, even more terrified as his odds against falling were just cut in half. Fred, George, Marcus, and Miles began circling underneath him, clearly ready to catch him if he did fall.

"Hold on!" George yelled up at him.

"GET ME OFF THIS BROOM!" Hellion screamed.

Then as soon as it began, it stopped.

His broom completely stilled, steady and unmoving in the air. Hellion could have cried, he was so relieved. Fred reached him first and helped him onto it. Hellion raced toward the ground, done with the whole thing, but as he got near, something flew in his mouth, choking him.

He fell off his broom the last eight or so feet and landed hard on his back, dislodging whatever flew down his throat. He coughed, feeling like he was about to hurl, and spat… the Golden Snitch into his hand.

Fred, George, Marcus, Adrian, and Bell had landed around him, and they froze when they saw what he had. He stood on shaky legs and looked to Marcus.

"Does this count?" he asked, voice rough.

Suddenly, from whoever was commentating, boomed out the words: "POTTER'S GOT THE SNITCH!"

Ron landed hard next to him at that moment, stumbling against him. "Bloody hell!" he cried, eyes wide.

The rest of their teams surrounded them, and the Slytherins began mother-henning him. Madam Hooch ruled that as he was not the Seeker, catching—or almost swallowing—the Snitch didn't count. However, she did declare the game over, Gryffindor for the win.

"Sorry, mate," Ron mumbled to him.

Hellion gave him an incredulous look. "Take the damn game, Ron, I could've died! Hell, if this is Quidditch, I ain't doin' it."

"Well, I never," Madam Hooch breathed, gripping Hellion's shoulder tightly as students were ushered off the stands.

Hellion struggled against her, snapping at her not to touch him, but she didn't seem to hear him. He was about to shove her when one of the Weasley twins somehow tripped between them, and Hellion scurried off to stand by his team.

"Hellion," Marcus said seriously, sectioning the team further off from the others, "what was that?"

"You tell me," Hellion barked.

"Hex," Miles said. "Had to have been."

"Snape will know," Chris proclaimed.

"I ain't playin' if this is gonna happen."

"I know," Marcus nodded gravely. "I won't let you. Give me your broom, we'll have it tested, and I give you my word, we will figure this out."

Hellion nodded, handing over his broom but not at all comforted. So far in this magical world, promises were proving to only be wishful thinking.

Severus met Hellion and the rest of the team outside the locker room. He made sure Hellion was okay then pulled Marcus aside for his report of what happened. Hellion, still a bit shaky, hurried into the locker room and barricaded himself in one of the showers. He sat for a long time on the tile floor, big toe picking at the drain, and just soaked up the hot water. His teammates one by one stopped by his stall, asking after him, but left him alone when he requested.

Hellion had been practising  _ so hard. _ He had run through both beginner and intermediate flying books. He had soaked in any advice he could get, had spent hours on that broom both by himself and with others, and nothing like what had happened ever even came up as a possibility. 

Was it him? Did he do something wrong? Had he turned his own broom against him?

Upset and unsettled, Hellion eventually left the showers, dressed warmly in clothes Severus had picked out for him months ago now, and pushed out of the locker room-

Only to find Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Ron, Fred, and George Weasley, and Hermione Granger waiting for him.

He groaned when he saw them, mostly from embarrassment over the game, and buried his face in his hands. "Wha'?"

Someone came up next to him, hand hovering over his back but not touching. Hellion could tell without looking that it was Draco.

"I've got Trouble in my pocket," he spoke softly.

Hellion sighed and held out his hands for his kitten. Draco gently pulled the black fluff ball from his robe pocket and handed him over.

"D'you bring 'im to the game?"

"Yeah," Draco said, scratching Trouble's head who was burying it against Hellion's shoulder. "He was okay with the noise but add to the list of things he hates: beanies, Lee Jordan's voice, and the colour yellow."

Hellion chuckled, shaking his head at his troublesome Trouble.

"I have to get to detention," Draco said quietly. "Are you okay?"

Hellion nodded and tried to smile at the blond. "I'm good. Crazy game, eh?"

Draco nodded but didn't look at all convinced, gave Trouble a last pet, then walked off toward the castle. Blaise followed after receiving a reassuring look from Hellion.

Once they were out of hearing range, Hellion turned to the Gryffindors. He could tell they had information, and they each looked serious. "I'mma gonna hate this, ain't I?"

The four shrugged the same, then Ron gestured them toward Hagrid's hut.

"Great," Hellion mumbled to Trouble.

Hagrid was waiting for them, having cleared off the table. Fang happily greeted them, and Hellion was able to smoothly hand Trouble over to Fred before Fang leapt on him. After some shuffling, Hellion and Trouble had a giant chair to themselves, Ron and Hermione shared one, the twins shared another (they were admittedly getting a bit too big to do so), and Hagrid took one on his own.

As Hagrid passed out the teacups, Hellion asked, "So, wha' is it?"

"It's Snape," Ron said bluntly. "Hermione saw everything. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering; he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

"Rubbish," Hagrid said at once. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

"That's the thing," Fred said.

George picked up, "Fred and I saw him with Filch a few days ago. We think Fluffy bit him…"

By the time Hellion, Hermione, and the Weasleys trekked back to the castle, it was dark, and Hellion was numb.

Hellion and Hagrid adamantly defended Severus, but the Gryffindors had a lot to say. In the end, Hagrid was still mumbling doubtfully, but Hellion felt hollow. It made sense—damn everything, it made sense—in more ways than the Gryffindors realised.

He was quiet as they filed back into the castle, and he didn't acknowledge the others as they tried to say goodbye. Instead, he marched on down to the dungeons. When he got to the Slytherin dorms, he wasn't so much numb as he was enraged.

He shoved past anyone who tried to speak to him, rushed into his room where he deposited Trouble and dug out the scissors he had carried around until he got his switchblade back at the beginning of the year, and barged back out into the dungeons. He would have loved to use his tried and true switchblade, but  _ Severus _ had charmed it useless.

He had the scissors open, clutching their centre despite the stinging in his hand, and when he reached Severus' office door, didn't hesitate to kick the unlocked thing open.

Severus was behind his desk and jumped up at the intrusion, and something to his right by the fireplace made frantic movements too. But Severus was Hellion's entire focus as the door slammed behind him.

"I TRUSTED YOU!" he bellowed, brandishing the scissors. "I  _ BELIEVED _ YOU!"

Severus held out his hands slightly at his sides and gently and slowly came around his desk. "Hellion… What happened? What's wrong?"

"YOU MEAN BESIDES  _ YOU _ TRYIN' TO KILL ME?!"

Severus paused, confusion flickering across his face.

"THEY SAW YOU! THEY SAW YOU HEXIN' ME BROOM!"

His voice echoed loudly throughout the office, and as much as Hellion was furious and also a bit scared, he knew the hurt his felt deep in his chest was loud and clear in both his voice and his face.

Severus took the smallest of steps forward. "I didn't try to hex your broom, Hellion," he said softly.

"FUCK YOU! THEY  _ SAW _ YOU!"

"I was trying to  _ counter _ it," Severus said sternly, squatting and making himself shorter. It had the same effect the first time he did it all those weeks ago when they first met. Fear shot through Hellion, and he scrambled back, still ready to swipe at the man with his weapon but now also worried something might come up behind him.

Severus' hands rose further up. He shook them, letting his long sleeves fall a little to show his wrists as well.

"I was not hexing you, Hellion. I don't know who was, but I was trying to counter it."

"Yeah?" Hellion challenged, throat feeling very, very tight. "Then why'd me broom only get be'er when your robes caught fire?"

Severus had no reaction, but he seemed to have fought to ensure it. "You know who set my robes on fire?"

Hellion bellowed again, "YOU TRIED TO KILL ME!"

"No," Severus disagreed calmly.

He then did something that completely threw Hellion. He sat right down on the floor, legs crossed, and slowly—nonthreateningly—removed his outer robes, as though to show he wasn't hiding anything. His clothes underneath were regular trousers and a long-sleeved black shirt. He kept his hands out, but otherwise relaxed back, like children threatening him with scissors was a common pastime.

There was a thick, tense silence, and Hellion was humiliated when he felt his eyes trying to sting, as well as finally recognising he was cutting his own hand with the way he was holding the scissors out, ready to strike. He blinked hard to keep his eyes dry.

"I didn't try to kill you," Severus said softly.

"Then wha' the fuck?!" Hellion yelled. "It was you—tha' day—at Diagon—at Gringotts!  _ You  _ got Dumbledore's wha'ever outta tha' vault—if you weren't the one tryin' to steal it!  _ You  _ brought it to Hogwarts, didn't you! 

"I was jus' an excuse, wasn't I? Jus' a reason for you to get it, because you said YOURSELF! YOU SAID YOU WERE THE  _ ONLY _ ONE WHO COULD FIND ME!" Hellion stopped a sob from slipping out and forced himself to continue. "You told me—you said—you told me only  _ you _ can find me.  _ You _ brought me into the Spook world,  _ you _ told me I was safe, but you were just using me! You just used me to see what Dumbledore wanted to protect, you used me to get close to it! You went after it on Halloween! You tried to kill me today because I know what I know! Because I know too much! YOU LIED TO ME! I'M NOT SAFE HERE—I'M NOT EVEN SAFE FROM  _ YOU _ !"

Hellion ripped a book from a shelf behind him and threw it at Severus with all his might. Severus dodged it gracefully.

"No," Severus said calmly. "No… Hellion, please listen: you _aren't_ on the streets anymore—not everyone has alternative motives, not everyone is gunning to betray you, and yes, some things _are_ given for free. You've been struggling with this since the beginning, I know, and you've done _so_ _well_ , so I know you aren't foolish enough to listen to what—I can only imagine has to be—wild theories of children your age! 

"Yes, I did go back to Gringotts that day to pick up a package for Dumbledore, and  _ yes _ , that is what is protected here. It has nothing to do with  _ you _ . You weren't an excuse for picking up the package; the package was added to my day since I would already be in London. And  _ yes _ , last week I ran up to the third floor, but not to rob Hogwarts. Quirrell may be a nervous numpty, but he isn't completely incompetent. There was a chance someone interfered as Quirrell tried unloading the troll, and I had to make sure the area was secure, just in case. As far as today… I'm working on it, Hellion. I was trying to protect you today—I was trying to keep my promise, to keep you safe! I was trying to keep my word."

Hellion could only blink, trying to process.

Severus slowly stood, speaking slowly. "I didn't lie—I was the only person who could find you. What I didn't tell you was it's because your… because your father saved my life when we were in school," he spat that last as though the words gave him a bad taste. He then took a breath and continued, "In order to find you before the start of term, I activated what is known in our world as a Life Oath. Because your father isn't alive anymore, that Oath transferred to you. And because it swears me to protect you at all costs, I can find you. I am still bound to that, Hellion, and will be until either I save you from the brink of death or die myself. If I have any offspring before I die—which is not likely—the Oath will be transferred to them, to protect the Potters. And so on until the Oath is fulfilled. I believe you can now imagine how family debts and feuds have begun in the past."

"Fuck you," Hellion said in a very small voice. Hellion  _ desperately _ wanted to believe Severus, but after the Weasleys and Hermione were able to so effectively tear down his trust, he was simply terrified to.

"You're bleeding," someone said softly.

Hellion jumped and swung the scissors to his right where the voice came from. It was Draco, staring wide-eyed at the scissors. Hellion quickly dropped his hand and shoved it behind his back.

"Hellion?" Draco asked, confusion and fear evident on his face.

"S-sorry," Hellion breathed out.

"Mr Malfoy was just serving his detention," Severus said, picking up his robes. "I believe he also knows about Life Oaths and could better explain to you how I couldn't harm you even if I did wish it—which I don't."

Seemingly relieved by Hellion no longer ready to attack, Draco scurried over to him to pry the scissors out of Hellion's hand. Hellion let him, swallowing.

"Sorry," he repeated.

"You should be," Draco scolded. "I say, believing in wild Snape-theories—from your Gryffindors no doubt! You wouldn't have  _ died _ , Hellion, gosh." He pulled Hellion over to a corner where a small sink basin was and began washing out Hellion's bleeding hand. "Do you even know how many teachers were there? Not to mention this is a school, Hellion, use your head. The pitch itself is bewitched to catch students who fall. And even if that was broken and no teacher got there in time, don't you remember how many people were flying underneath you, ready to catch you? Ronald Weasley himself was yelling out orders left and right like he was running a rescue mission."

"Really?"

"Yes, really!" Draco shouted, roughly wrapping Hellion's hand with a cloth. His own hands were shaking, though, and that paired with the babbling told Hellion that he really did scare the blond. "And how can you just come storming in and threaten someone with scissors? And who set Snape on  _ fire _ ?! And don't start with that snitching crap-"

"Draco," Hellion said, gently taking his hand back. "It's okay. Sorry."

"How is this okay?!"

"Both of you—hush," Severus snapped. His familiar robes were back in place, and he was talking to his house-elf, asking for tea. He Transfigured the armchair by the fireplace into a comfortable-looking sofa and had the boys sit. Hellion wanted to protest, but with Draco still shaky and paler than normal, he acquiesced. Severus busied himself with collecting the potion ingredients Draco was chopping for his detention then came to sit opposite them once the house-elf brought the tea and set it up on a small table between them.

"Now that we're calm," Severus said, giving Hellion a pointed look, "how about we discuss this in a civilised manner."

"Yes," Draco agreed. "I'm sure you're just making a big deal out of a bunch of coincidences."

Hellion snorted disbelievingly. "You know wha' they say 'bout coincidences."

"What?" Draco frowned.

Hellion fixed Severus with a dark look. "Tha' they're well planned."

Severus sighed. "Mr Malfoy, under normal circumstances, I would ask you to leave, but as nothing, apparently, can be normal where Hellion is concerned, perhaps it would be best if you can stay and help Hellion see reason. Why don't we start from the beginning…?"

It took several minutes of coaxing, but eventually, Hellion relayed his friends' theories: 

That Snape had used Hellion to get a look at whatever Dumbledore was protecting, if he wasn't at the bank to steal it and was the infamous break-in himself; that Hellion knew about Fluffy, and of course the troll since Severus had told him; that Hagrid had let slip that afternoon that whatever the mysterious object was, Dumbledore was protecting it for a Nicholas Flamel. He relayed that Snape wanted the object for himself, that he had tried to steal it on Halloween when Fluffy bit him, and that he tried to hurt Hellion during the game, most likely because Hellion had all the clues to put suspicion on him.

It all sounded so reasonable when discussing it with his friends, but now, not so much. He refused to name who they were, though, but he had a feeling Severus was going to corner Draco one day to at least find out who had the gall to set his robes on fire.

"Hang on," Draco said, "why  _ did _ the hexing stop when you caught fire?"

Hellion nodded, thinking that was pretty damning evidence.

"There could be a number of reasons," Severus answered, sounding nonchalant. Hellion didn't know if he could trust it. "I was hardly the only person affected by the flames, and not to mention, the whole school was one great big rambunctious crowd. Anyone could be behind the hex, and anything could have interrupted it."

Draco gave Hellion a look that clearly said he wasn't so sure.

"Well, wha' d'you have to say for yourself?" Hellion asked Severus, crossing his arms.

Severus scowled. "I do not answer to you, boy. What information I have given you, I've done so as a  _ privilege _ to you." He considered Hellion a moment, then sighed again, looking suddenly older. "I tell you these things to help you understand. You are a flight risk, at  _ best, _ and a loose cannon at worst. I don't want to see you making a mistake or missing the opportunities given to you here because you're worried a damn troll might be around the corner. School  _ should _ be a safe, encouraging atmosphere." He rubbed his temples. "Which is why, at least for the sake of the other students, I must ask you both not to repeat anything we've discussed here tonight."

"Yes, sir," Draco answered promptly. 

Hellion pressed his lips tightly together.

"And I want you both to report to me immediately if anything suspicious happens, or if you even  _ think _ something might not be right, understand?"

Hellion sighed and nodded, still hurt and confused, but now completely exhausted. He had no plans of telling anyone anything until he made up his mind about where he stood. He did decide, however, that he was going to get the twins to teach him some actual defensive magic, so he would no longer be dependent on getting to a blade.

Draco didn't answer immediately, however. He gave Hellion a look Hellion couldn't decipher, then he spoke slowly. "Sir… On Halloween, there was an odd professor stalking the dungeons. Or, I assumed she was a professor. I've never seen her in the Great Hall before."

Severus looked alert. "Did she give you a name?"

"No, sir."

"Can you describe her?"

"Really weird, I guess? She had this beaded shawl-thing, and big, round glasses and wild hair, and she told me the cards predicted she would have an adventure in the dungeons, so that was why she was there. She took off, though, when I told her about the troll."

Severus began to deflate at Draco's description, and by the end, he shook his head with a slightly amused huff. "That, I believe, would be Professor Trelawney. She teaches Divinations, and she rarely leaves her tower. I will, of course, double check that it was her, but I wouldn't worry. She's odd and mostly a complete fraud, but ultimately harmless."

"Yes, sir," Draco answered.

Severus stood to dismiss them, demanding they both go straight to bed, but at the door, he fixed Hellion with a stern glare. "There should be  _ severe _ consequences for you threatening a professor. This is special circumstances, so I won't dock any points, but I  _ am _ giving you detention, at the very least for acting so rash! If I was the one trying to hurt you, you would have put yourself in a prime position to make it  _ very _ easy. I won't have you running off to confront what threatens you that way. In the future, you will learn to control your emotions and use your  _ brain _ before you act. Do you understand me?"

Hellion felt properly reprimanded, but not necessarily for his action but rather  _ how _ he acted. He ducked his head before nodding.

Severus held out his hand. "Give me your switchblade. You have lost all privileges to sharp objects for at  _ least _ a fortnight. You will have to get someone else to cut things for you in Potions and during meals. Your scissors will stay with me as well."

Hellion handled over his switchblade, trying not to pout or panic.

"Goodnight," Severus said more gently, then shut his door with a click.

As soon as he did, Draco was grabbing his wrist and pulling him down the corridor.

"Let go," Hellion tried half-heartedly.

"Hellion, you absolute pillock!" Draco yelled. "I cannot believe you threatened a teacher. And you carry around a  _ knife _ , are you insane? Well, no, apparently, you're just from the  _ streets! _ I swear, this explains so much. Come  _ on _ , Hellion, we have so much to discuss."

"I don't wanna talk 'bout where I'm from!" Hellion yelled back, yanking his arm away.

"We're not," Draco ordered, grabbing Hellion wrist again, unfazed. "I don't even want to know, I swear to god, no wonder you carry so much around with you—always ready to pack up and leave, are you? Gosh, Hellion, you complete prat."

"I'm 'bout to hit you, arsehole! Shut up!"

"No," Draco shook his head, still pulling Hellion along. He was stronger than Hellion gave him credit for. "This is serious. Don't you realise?"

"Realise wha'?" Hellion asked, feeling a wider pool of dread in his gut. He had never seen anyone quite like this, as though half scared out of his mind and half ready to storm the seas.

"It  _ was _ a professor who hexed your broom! It's the only thing that makes sense. It may not have been Snape, but when Snape's robes caught fire, there must have been a commotion around him. Which means it was someone else around him in the teacher's section that got interrupted by it."

"You think so?" Hellion asked, heart rate picking up.

"Maybe. I just don't know. I don't know." Draco shook his head hard then practically bellowed the password when they reached the dorms. He pulled Hellion all the way to their room, kicked Crabbe and Goyle out, and began pacing, thinking out loud and coming up with a strategy to check for themselves who the odd woman in the dungeons was—and who Nicholas Flamel was because Draco swore up and down he knew that name.

By the end of it all, Hellion really didn't know what to think. Hurray for his first Quidditch match.


	11. Hols and the Mirror of Fucked Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So sorry if the unexpected absence. I had some life things that demanded my attention. But, as I’ll be having surgery after the first of the year, I hope to get the rest of this out before then.
> 
> Some notes:  
> 1, I lied apparently - this chapter should be the last chapter with heavily lifted text. That’s mostly due to the Christmas scenes. Please note that the text about Honeyducks is lifted from the 3rd book. As always, I’ve changed it up as much as I could, (i.e., like Hellion and the Christmas mice), but still. I do not even slightly pretend to own any of it.  
> Honestly, I’m not happy with the chapter with how summary-lengthy it is. But, it was the best I could currently do.
> 
> 2, warning for vandalism and strong language. Hellion has a completely different reaction to the Mirror of Erised than Harry ever did.

Hellion missed lessons that following Monday and spent the entire day with Madam Pomfrey by order of Severus. 

They played games, got into friendly debates about what he had learned in his books on magical healing, and when Hellion tried to help Madam Pomfrey's find something creative for her to do in her free time, Hellion discovered he had a flair for music. Or, that was what Pomfrey called it. They spent the afternoon in Hogwarts' music chambers, and though they couldn't find anything for Pomfrey, Hellion found he himself enjoyed the guitar. He had to admit Pomfrey might have had a point about creative outlets, and he could see why she wanted one.

Truly, he didn't know what the woman was trying to accomplish spending time with him like she was, but he had a lot of fun that day.

Later on that week, Hellion decided to visit Fang, and he brought along Hermione and the Weasleys. There, he told them and Hagrid that he confronted Severus, and that he believed Severus when he said he wasn't behind the hexing. The Gryffindors didn't look convinced, but they let the matter go. He also told them about the strange woman Draco met in the dungeons on Halloween, and that had their interest. It had Fred and George lamenting briefly that they had chosen not to take Divination and therefore, had no idea what the professor looked like.

It also led to a very awkward Sunday when the Weasley twins took Hellion and Draco, the only one to have seen this witch, to stalk one of the highest towers in the castle, waiting for a glimpse of Professor Trelawney. They didn't get one, but at least by the end, Draco and the twins were getting on reasonably well, if they stayed on mission.

With nothing new, and as the weeks clicked on without incident, Hellion soon found himself getting closer to the hols.

Christmas was coming.

Snow fell thickly over Hogwarts, the lake becoming frozen. The water, however, was somehow clearer from where they peered from the Slytherin windows. The entire castle looked like a wonderland to Hellion, and the season was serving to make him rowdier. One afternoon, he joined Fred and George out on the castle grounds and got his first detention from Professor Quirrell directly after he and twins bewitched several snowballs to follow the professor, bouncing off the back of his turban.

The downside to the weather was that the unfortunate owls had to battle across the stormy skies to deliver mail. Draco's father was still writing him routinely, and Draco's poor owl collapsed over their breakfast. Hellion dragged a resistant Draco to Hagrid for help, and Hagrid happily taught the two basic animal-healing skills so they could nurse some of the owls back to health themselves.

Despite the owls, no one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Slytherin dormitories and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all was Potions, Severus seemingly determined to keep it to where they could see their breath and had them huddling close to their hot cauldrons. It was beneficial in learning, though, as the change in temperature required a change in how they kept their fires underneath, affecting the entire potion.

It was during one of these Potions classes just before the holiday break that Hellion and Draco got into a hushed argument.

"Hellion…" Draco breathed as though at his patience's end. "I don't mean to sound rude, truly, I don't, but have you forgotten that you  _ don't have a home _ ."

Hellion just barely resisted dumping their potion on him. "Home's where the heart is, mate. And we always have a jolly good time at Christmas."

"At a homeless shelter?" Draco asked, clearly questioning Hellion's sanity.

This wouldn't be the first argument they had since Draco learned the truth about Hellion's life outside of Hogwarts, and Hellion knew it wouldn't be the last. Draco kept trying to get more information—such as,  _ why _ , and  _ how _ , and tried to find people to blame. He also tried to get Hellion to let him tell his father so that they could intervene and get Hellion into a proper wizarding home. To Draco utmost fury, Hellion wouldn't budge.

This, however, Hellion did want to explain.

"Yes, at the homeless shelter. It's the best time of year! First, there are so many volunteers—you can hang your hat on gettin' a meal every day. And it's the season of really appreciatin' wha' ya got, y'know? Everyone shares this time of year. You're almost always guaranteed a new blanket from one of ya buddies or summit. And the decorations!" he gushed, mincing some beetle legs. "You should see it, Draco. Pop by London durin' the hols! The whole city lights up. And this year—this year, I's got money, don't I? I mean, I already donated a bunch to the shelter, but I can buy 'em all new blankets and pillows—and 'em charmed shoes tha' don't get no holes. They don't gotta know 'em wizard shoes."

Draco was quiet for several minutes as they added the last few ingredients, then he sighed, sounding entirely put-upon. "You do realise you don't have to leave Hogwarts to do any of that, don't you? And your friends would understand you wanting to stay at your new school for the holidays. You can send personalised gift baskets to all your little street buddies, and then make sizable donations and gifts to the shelter. All while staying safely at the castle. I'll even help."

Hellion sighed, too, turning down their small fire to let their cauldron simmer. "But the decorations..."

Draco smirked at him. "How about this? How about we make a deal? If Hogwarts' decorations are as good as or better than London's, you stay here, and I'll help prepare the best gifts possible. If not, you go back to your streets, and I won't say another word."

Hellion regarded him suspiciously. "Why? Wha' you know tha' I don't?"

Draco just shook his head. "Deal or not?"

Hellion chewed his lip. The Malfoys were really well-off, much more than he, even with his parents' money. His help could mean so much to the shelter.

"Fine," Hellion agreed, "but when you say help, you gotta really help. And don't start 'bout tha' soap shite."

"Agreed."

When they left the dungeons at the end of their lesson, they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told Hellion that Hagrid was behind it.

"Watcha, Hagrid!" Hellion called.

"Hullo!" Hagrid smiled at him over some branches. "Comin' fer lunch? Yer should see the Great Hall, looks a treat."

Hellion blinked then glared at Draco, who was smirking. Hellion had missed breakfast that morning as he stayed up late working on his Astronomy. Draco saved him some food as always, but Hellion had skipped going to the Great Hall entirely. Hellion  _ knew _ Draco knew something he didn't.

"Come on, then," Draco ushered.

They followed Hagrid and his tree off to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations.

"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree—put it in the far corner, would you?"

The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

"Well?" Draco challenged as they sat at their table.

Hellion had to drag his eyes away from it all. He swallowed. "Er…"

"Oh, gosh, Hellion, really?" Draco threw up his hands. "You  _ know _ this beats them all, and I told you I would help. Stay here, where it's warm and you have a bed."

Hellion sighed again, seeing the genuine worry in his friend's eyes. "Fine. I'll sign up to stay. But we've only a day 'til you leave—we better get started."

They used both Serenity and Draco's owl to send a multitude of orders to Hogsmeade and other close villages for the gifts they would put together themselves, then they spent a while organising donations and other things via several mediums for not just Hellion's main shelter, but several others as well. Draco wrote to his mother, promising Hellion they would continue the work when he arrived home and she could get a jump on things. It took some explaining as to why Hellion wanted to do similarly for the library he frequented, but then Draco took off formulating the financing for new programmes that could run through the library to help the homeless and underprivileged. Hellion was impressed, if he was honest.

"I feel like a Hufflepuff," Draco complained by the time they were finished.

Hellion laughed at him. "Don't worry, Draco. When you get home, you can kick puppies, gain back your equilibrium."

"I see that word-of-the-day calendar is paying off."

Hellion threw a book at him.

He saw Draco off the next day with promises to practise the Woollongong Shimmy (a high-speed zigzagging Chaser move) and to at least try to do his Transfiguration reading. Draco, in return, promised to see what he could find out about Nicholas Flamel while at home and having access to even more books and connections than he did at school.

Hellion stayed in the entrance hall for a while, saying goodbyes to some friends that would pass him on their way out.

"Oh, Hellion!" Hermione Granger smiled when she spotted him, pulling a large trunk behind her.

"Are ya takin' all your stuff?" Hellion asked, a laugh on his lips.

"No, of course not, don't be ridiculous. I've just been to the library."

Though Draco promised to look into Nicholas Flamel, it was mainly Hermione and the Weasleys who had been researching him. Well, Hermione, mostly, because she apparently thought the name was significant. Hellion and the Weasleys hoped if they found anything, it would give them clues into his treasure. As far as the man himself, Hellion didn't really care.

Hermione pulled out a list and showed him the books she checked out to search during the hols. She made him promise he would keep looking ("But only  _ after _ you finish your homework, Hellion,"), and like with Draco, he made her agree to a counter promise, but this time it was to put down the books at some point and enjoy her holiday.

They hugged, and Hellion shook his head after her. She reminded him so much of some of his library friends sometimes.

Hellion sighed about half an hour later, confident that the last of the students leaving had passed. He couldn't believe he missed the Weasleys. He really wanted to see them off.

Trying not to feel hurt they, apparently, didn't want to say goodbye to him, he made his way into the Great Hall for lunch.

"Aw, look at the kicked puppy, Fred!"

"Come here, kicked puppy!"

Hellion's head snapped around to the Gryffindor table where Ron, Fred, and George Weasley were sitting close to the open doors, all smiles. George was holding up a piece of food and whistling to Hellion to come forward like a dog.

Hellion threw his head back and laughed.

"What're you doin' here?" he asked, gladly joining them at their table for lunch as all but two older Slytherins from his House had left the school.

"Mum and Dad are spending the hols in Romania to visit Charlie," Ron answered.

"So, you'll be here the whole time?"

The three Weasleys nodded.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Wanted to see how many of your snakes left," Fred smirked.

"Wouldn't want them all knowing you're being snuck into Gryffindor tower, now would we?" George continued.

Hellion smirked back.

The Weasleys were the only Gryffindors that stayed at school, so they had the whole Gryffindor tower to themselves. Percy wasn't too thrilled when he walked in and saw Hellion was there, but after some quick blackmailing from the twins, he relented. After all, it wasn't like they were letting Hellion know the password, much to Hellion's disappointment. Hellion tried to sneak the password from the notice board only to find the twins had charmed it to say, “Ha ha, tricked you,” and blow raspberries at him.

Gryffindor common room was a large, round cosy room full of squashy armchairs. Slytherin commons was large as well, of course, but Hellion thought they could fit two inside Gryffindor's. However, the only doors off the room were the dorms, so Hellion figured he lucked out with Slytherin's sectioned off sitting and work rooms, not to mention the game room. (Luckily, the other Slytherins staying were both prefects, so Hellion didn't have to reciprocate and share the game room or something without getting into major trouble.)

The holidays began, and Hellion and the Weasleys were having too good a time to think about Nicholas Flamel, Fluffy, mysterious professors, or hexed brooms. They mostly stayed in the Gryffindor tower where they sat by the fire, eating anything they could spare on toasting forks—bread, English muffins, marshmallows—and plotting pranks and other mischievous behaviours.

Ron also started teaching Hellion wizard chess. It was exactly like muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Ron's set was very old and battered. Like everything else he owned, it had once belonged to someone else in his family—in this case, his grandfather. However, old chessmen weren't a drawback. Ron knew them so well, he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted. They didn't trust Hellion at all, though, especially since he wasn't a very good player yet. They kept shouting different bits of advice at him, appalled and outraged by his command. "Don't send me there, can't you see his knight? Send  _ him _ , we can afford to lose  _ him _ !"

It was hilarious.

On Christmas Eve, Harry went back to the Slytherin dorms, looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all. When he woke early the next morning, however, the first thing he saw was a pile of packages at the foot of his bed.

Hellion whooped. "Merry Christmas, Trouble! Lookit!"

Hellion made sure to open all the curtains on the windows and light all the torches, so he wouldn't miss a thing. He pulled the presents up to sit by the fire and dug in, Trouble playing close by with the new toys Hellion had gotten him for his own Christmas present.

The top parcel was wrapped in thick, brown paper and scrawled across it was  _ To Harry, from Fang _ . Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself, and around it was a crude impression of a dog's—Fang's—paw print. Hellion grinned and blew it. It sounded a bit like an owl, reminding Hellion to stop by the Owlery to see how Serenity liked her gifts.

A small, elegantly wrapped parcel caught his eye next, and he was careful with the clearly expensive green paper (not that it mattered since Trouble claimed it as his to destroy later on). Inside was a handsome wristwatch with a very complicated face. It took Hellion studying it for a full two minutes to realise the watch didn't just tell time, it told the day, month, year, and current constellation, and it was also a compass. There was a setting on there to set an alarm as well, and also to set a destination, using a special needle on the compass part to lead him to wherever he wished. He turned it over, and on the back was an inscription:

_ Hellion _

_ Cunning, Persistence, Chaos _

Hellion grinned broadly and immediately put it on.

He noticed another parcel with the same wrapping paper, so he opened that next. It was a book on game theory that looked equal parts interesting and boring, and a letter.

__

_ Hellion, _

_ I've got your information on Flamel, see below. _

_ I debated whether or not to actually send this along because I have decided that you are single handedly responsible for ruining my Christmas. _

_ Understandably, Mother was confused about my sudden interest in helping the chavs of London, so I blamed you. I told her it was a tradition of yours and your family to volunteer at shelters and what have you during the hols, and that you were just absolutely distraught about how being away at school has disturbed your regular charity work. I, naturally as your best friend and the absolutely gracious and wonderful person that I am, agreed to do what I could. _

_ Well, she is ever so touched. You have won major points with her, let me tell you, and also, fuck you, as you would say. She has decided that it is the embodiment of the spirit of the season to volunteer, giving not just our money but also our time for the needy. She decided that on Christmas, we will go into London and volunteer at a couple of wizarding shelters. _

_ I also blame you for this because she only got the idea since I was trying to find out if there even were any wizarding shelters for you. Honestly, Hellion, you are chaos even when you don't try. _

_ Father, of course, didn't believe my excuse for a second. Now, he is convinced you and I have some sort of nefarious plot up our sleeves. See, I had tried to appeal to him to stop the whole mess, but no, Hellion, that didn't work. Father is now determined to go to try to find out what we're up to. _

_ I hate you so much. _

_ My parents say hello. They want to know if you would like to spend some time with us over summer break? We'll spend a few weeks in Italy, and I believe we will make a stop into France. You are welcomed to join. _

_ Enjoy your watch and book. _

_ Draco _

__

_ Nicholas Flamel is a barmy old coot who was born in 1418. Yes, he is still alive today. He is a legend of sorts in medieval alchemy, and he succeeded in creating the Philosopher's Stone. He is still recorded as the only one to have ever achieve it. _

_ The Philosopher's Stone is a miracle stone, truly. The two most important things it does is turn metal into gold and is the main necessity in creating the Elixir of Life, a powerful and complicated potion which makes its drinker immortal. It's why the Flamels are still alive. _

_ Of course, Dumbledore befriended him pretty early in his wizardry career. He has done some work with Flamel involving the Stone, but whatever came of it, no one knows. There are rumours, of course. Some are that Dumbledore seeks eternal life himself, others are that he was experimenting to see if the Elixir of Life could successfully bring someone back to life, and there was even one for a while that Flamel was just doing his own work, and Dumbledore befriended him before Grindelwald could. _

_ Whatever the truth, it would seem that Dumbledore is one of the few people, if not the only person, Flamel trusts with the Stone. _

_ We will be making a stop at Diagon at one point during the hols, and I will try to find out if the two people seen accompanying Dumbledore to Gringotts could be the Flamels. _

__

Hellion didn't know whether to laugh or to try to find a way to send Draco a hex. He thought maybe it would do his conceited friend some good to volunteer, but knowing Draco, since his father apparently thought something else was underfoot, he would string his father along for his own entertainment. Still, Hellion was touched that the boy kept his word about continuing to help and taking time out of his holiday over the Flamel mystery.

"Draco, you knob-headed nob," he said, setting the book and letter aside.

Next, he picked up a lumpy parcel, starkly different from Draco's wrappings, and when he opened it, he was slightly confused to find a thick, obviously hand-knitted sweater in emerald green along with a box of homemade fudge. There was a letter attached to the box, and he carefully unstuck it to read.

_ Dearest Harry, _

_ Ron and the twins told us you weren't expecting any presents this year, so Arthur and I wanted to send this along. We're so glad our sons have you as a friend, and we can never thank you enough for helping Ron and Percy with that troll and saving Ron. Merry Christmas! _

_ Love, _

_ Molly and Arthur Weasley _

_ Ps, we would say to stay out of trouble, but as you seem just so determined for Gryffindor to win the House Cup, we will merely say, stay out of too much trouble. _

__

Hellion chuckled, immediately decided this letter deserved prime real estate in the box he kept his letters from his library friends. He scuttled to his trunk to do just that then returned to his presents, pulling on his new sweater. He sniffed it out of curiosity and grinned when he could smell wild fields, chimney smoke, and some kind of delicious meal. It smelled warm and motherly, and he wondered if he could use some sort of spell to preserve it.

Next, he got a box of candies from Hermione, a whole sodding stack of Chocolate Frog cards from Ron, some kind of treasure map and a "sickle for the treasure" from the twins, a book on modern wizarding fashion from Blaise (Hellion had obviously failed at pretending to know half the fashion-shite his fellows did), what looked to be a wizard version of dominos from Daphne, and a magical comb that "should do the trick!" from Pansy. He also got oddly thoughtful gifts from Vincent and Greg, a portable quill and ink carrying wrap guaranteed to prevent spillage from Vincent, and stickers that charmed texts to glow on days they were needed from Greg.

Idly, he wondered if he should be slightly insulted that he would find those items just as useful as gormless Vincent and Greg obviously could, but ultimately, he decided not being scholarly like Draco or Hermione wasn't such a bad thing.

He also got a present from his friends at the London library by way of several beginner's guitar music books and a small box of guitar picks.

Finally, there were only two parcels left. He went for the smaller one first, the wrapping elegant but understated, and inside was a new switchblade with  _ Hellion _ inscribed on it. It was dark green as well, and the light pattern on it gave the impression of snakes. It came with a short note in handwriting he recognised as Severus' from his Potion lessons.

__

_ It is  _ _ very _ _ heavily charmed, and you will find it to be absolutely useless in day-to-day activity. Let me know if you would like to learn basic defensive magic that you are undoubtedly not learning in class. _

Touched for what felt like the millionth time that morning, Hellion added Severus' note to his box of letters. It wasn't until he returned to his last present that he realised he probably wasn't ever going to get his old switchblade back.

Hellion picked the last parcel and frowned with how light it felt, having not expected it. When he unwrapped it, something fluid and silvery grey went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds.

He blinked at it, wondering fleetingly if someone sent him ghost-clothes.

A note had fallen with it, and he picked it up.

_ Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. _

_ Use it well. _

_ A Very Merry Christmas to you. _

__

There was no signature. Hesitant at the anonymity but curious of the connection to his father, Hellion poked at the thing a couple of times with his bare foot. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.

He crouched in front of it, ready to pinch it and pick it up to see what it was. He also grabbed his new switchblade, though, and as soon as it was firmly in his hand, he felt a small click inside it. Quirking a brow, he tried to open it, but nothing happened.

Hellion sighed, turning back to the weird doofer on his floor. Slowly, he pinched the material and stood, bringing it with him.

It looked like a cloak, with a hood and everything.

Feeling braver, he weighed the thing in his hands, then slipped half his arm under it—where his arm completely disappeared.

He yelped and jumped back, dropping the thing and clutching his arm to his chest. His switchblade was fully open now, sharp edges and all, but as Hellion's heart rate slowed, him reassuring himself the thing didn't just take his bloody arm, the switchblade clicked back closed.

Figuring he could experiment with Severus' charms later, he went back to the cloak.

Distrustful, it took him about half an hour to accept that it was simply a cloak that made its wearer invisible. It was clearly meant for an adult, but Hellion was okay with that because that simply meant he would grow into it properly and not have to find replacements later.

As he grinned stupidly at his mirror that didn't hold his reflection, wild ideas about his father flared in his mind. 

Was his father a thief in the night too? Or was he like a super-spy, MI6 James Bond type of person during the war? How did he use this cloak, what mischief might he had gotten into, and did he have it here, at Hogwarts, when he was in school?

Giddy beyond belief, Hellion spent the entire morning under the cloak, haunting the Slytherin dorms, playing out scenarios in his mind of what super-secret missions his father might have gone on. He practised nicking things carefully, bringing them under the cloak stealthily and walking away with them. He practised slipping through almost-shut doors, seeing how small the gap had to be before he couldn't successfully slip in without touching anything. He even spent a good bit playing Battle of the Wands under the cloak, pretending the game-wand was his actual one and he was duelling invisibly against the bad guy. And okay, sure, maybe he played one full game pretending he was his father in an epic battle against Voldemort. Who cared— _ literally _ no one could have seen him do it.

It was the best Christmas morning he could ever remember having.

Hellion had never in all his life had such a Christmas dinner either. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick rich gravy and cranberry sauce—when the feast first appeared, Hellion's throat closed tight, and he ducked his head to keep any of his emotions from showing. 

If Draco had bothered to even ask him, Hellion could have confirmed there were wizarding shelters because quickly after arriving at Hogwarts, Hellion demanded to know where any leftover food went. So, instead of being appalled at the spread, he was thrilled because there was no way even a tenth of it was getting eaten, and that meant so much food was going to be given tonight and the rest of the week to those shelters. He also wondered if Draco would learn of it, probably being at one of those shelters now.

But more than that, he felt so incredibly glad he did everything he could to give his shelter, and many others throughout London, some kind of similar experience for Christmas Day. He also just felt overwhelmingly grateful he had this chance now. The school had gone to so much trouble for them—Hellion almost felt like he would never go cold or hungry again.

The other two Slytherins sat at the Hufflepuff table with their friends, so Hellion felt no qualms with sitting with the Weasleys. Each table had stacks of wizard crackers every few feet, and Hellion at one point pulled one with Fred—and it didn't just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice. Fred happily wore the hat while Hellion spent a good while attempting to round up the mice, worried about Mrs Norris. He had all of them safely together right when they began disappearing into thin air because apparently, they weren't even real. Annoyed at wizard-trickery, Hellion stole Fred's hat.

Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Percy nearly broke his teeth on a silver sickle embedded in his slice. Hellion watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Hellion's hilarity, giggled and blushed, her top hat lopsided. Hellion even noticed that Severus himself had enough wine to allow Sinistra to begin braiding his hair.

When Hellion finally left the table, he was laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of non-explodable, luminous balloons, a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, and his own new wizard chess set. (He was also laden down with several stacks of nicked food wrapped in napkins, more out of habit than anything else, and he sincerely hoped that Ron didn't actually see him nick it but was instead glancing at something else.)

Hellion and the Weasleys spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they went up to Gryffindor tower to gather around the fire, where Hellion broke in his new chess set by losing spectacularly to Ron. He suspected he wouldn't have lost so badly if Percy hadn't tried to help him so much, but as Hellion tried to do the same thing in their snowball match only to result in Percy getting hit right in the groin, he let it go.

After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, Hellion and Ron felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor tower because they had stolen his prefect badge.

It had been Hellion's best Christmas Day ever.

As he made his sleepy way back to the Slytherin commons, however, he realised something had been playing over and over in the back of his head all day. It wasn't until he climbed into bed with Trouble curling up to sleep against the back of his neck that he let himself think about it: it was that cloak and whoever sent it. He didn't know how he would be able to track down the sender, but he had been subconsciously planning everything he could do with a cloak like that the entire day.

Disturbing Trouble enough for him to claim a corner of the bed for himself, Hellion dug through his trunk to find where he tried to hide the cloak. He sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing the strange material between his fingers.

His father's… it had been his father's. He let the material flow over his hands, smoother than silk, light as air.  _ Use it well _ , the note had said.

He had to use it, now. He slipped out of bed, making sure Trouble was asleep and had everything he needed, and wrapped the cloak around himself. Looking down at his legs, he saw only darkness surrounding the dark, dark green of the lake coming through the windows with swaying interruptions from the double refraction of the moonlight. It was a very funny feeling.

_ Use it well. _

Suddenly, Hellion felt wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts was open to him in this cloak. Excitement flooded through him as he stood there in the dark and silence. He could go anywhere in this—anywhere.

But where should he go first?

He remembered the odd treasure map the twins gifted him, and he gathered that and the sickle, along with his wand and new switchblade. It was a little hard navigating the dungeons as the cloak did nothing to block sound and the low ceilings seemed to make footsteps extra echo-y. Eventually, he made it a few floors up without trouble and used a window and the bright moonlight to read the hand-drawn map.

The map led him to the third-floor, part of the left-side that wasn't out of bounds, and directly to an ugly statue of a one-eyed witch. Hellion poked at it a couple of times but didn't find anything particularly special about it.

He looked back at the map and realised that there must have been a reason why the twins drew such an elaborate route to the statue. It had little tick marks, too, at certain places.

He spent another good hour going to each tick mark and eventually was able to figure out the clue: the word  _ Dissendium _ . When he got back to the one-eyed witch, he stowed the map, got his wand and switchblade ready in each hand, then after making sure he was alone, he pointed his wand to the witch and said aloud, " _ Dissendium. _ "

To his amazement, the hump on the one-eyed witch began to open. It revealed some kind of stone slide.

Trusting the twins wouldn't knowingly lead Hellion to harm, he decided to put aside some of his usual overt cautions and jumped down the secret slide. It led to an earthy passageway, so Hellion lit his wand and began his journey.

It felt like it took forever. A couple of times, Hellion decided he didn't care and turned around to go back. But, he actually did care, and his curiosity kept getting the better of him. The passage twisted and turned, more like the burrow of a giant rabbit than anything else. Hellion hurried along it, stumbling now and then on the uneven floor, holding his wand out in front of him.

It took ages, but the passage finally began to rise. Hellion sped up, panting. Ten minutes later, he came to the foot of some worn stone steps, which rose out of sight above him. Careful not to make any noise, Hellion began to climb. A hundred steps, two hundred steps, he lost count, constantly double checking he was still invisible. Then, without warning, his head hit something hard.

It seemed to be a trapdoor. Hellion stood there, massaging the top of his head, listening attentively. No sounds were coming from above him though. Very slowly, he pushed the trapdoor open and peered over the edge.

He was in a cellar, which was full of wooden crates and boxes. Hellion climbed out of the trapdoor and replaced it silently—it blended so perfectly with the dusty floor that it was impossible to tell it was there. Emboldened by the cloak, Hellion crept slowly toward the wooden staircase that led upstairs, determined to find out where he was.

An unlocked door was at the top, and he very slowly and carefully turned the knob and creaked open the door to… to behind the counter of some shop.

Hellion didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't this.

The shop was obviously closed, and it only took one look outside to know he was in some village. He heard older students talking about Hogsmeade, a local village near Hogwarts, but as only third-years and up were allowed to go to visit on certain weekends, he didn't pay it too much mind. Well, not after he couldn't find a way around the rules to go himself.

This… was around the rules alright.

The store he was in appeared to be named Honeydukes, which was exciting because he had heard a lot about their delicious candies. There were shelves upon shelves of the most succulent-looking sweets imaginable. Creamy chunks of nougat, shimmering pink squares of coconut ice, fat, honey-coloured toffees; hundreds of different kinds of chocolate in neat rows; there was a large barrel of Every Flavour Beans, and another of Fizzing Whizbees, which were levitating sherbet balls; along yet another wall were "Special Effects" sweets: Drooble's Best Blowing Gum (which filled a room with bluebell-coloured bubbles that refused to pop for days), the strange, splintery Toothflossing Stringmints, tiny black Pepper Imps ("Breathe fire for your friends!"), Ice Mice ("Hear your teeth chatter and squeak!"), peppermint creams shaped like toads ("Hop realistically in the stomach!"), fragile sugar-spun quills, and exploding bonbons. And over in the furthest corner was a section labelled Unusual Tastes, though Hellion stopped exploring that area as soon as he saw the blood-flavoured lollipops.

Hellion beamed, this being the cherry on top of an already perfect Christmas.

He explored for a while, nicked some treats to nibble on, then gather a bunch and left the sickle the twins gifted on the counter for the store owner to find. The sun was starting to come up when he left, him taking a while to find the trapdoor down in the cellar. He was dead on his feet by the time he climbed out of the one-eyed witch statue, but he was happy nonetheless.

He sunk back into bed that morning, satisfied with his adventure for the day and just simply… happy.

Later that day after plenty of sleep, Hellion greeted the Weasleys by chucking a Fizzing Whizbee to each redhead. The twins gave him a knowing smirk and winked, and Hellion told Ron and Percy they were just some treats he had gotten for Christmas that he wanted to share. Ron gave him an odd look but chuckled along with the rest.

That day Hellion and the Weasleys flew around the Quidditch pitch, Hellion practising the Woollongong Shimmy like he promised Draco. He was impatient, though, excited for night to fall again so he could begin exploring the castle in earnest, which quickly became a nightly routine

Hellion explored the library, particularly the Restricted Section, though he didn't trust any of the books enough to open them. He explored the entire Astronomy Tower, discovering exactly where Professor Sinistra kept the good telescopes. He explored countless corridors, one even dumping him in front of a large, golden gargoyle that Hellion could have sworn followed him with its eyes.

He found a room dedicated to only trophies, a secret passage to the boathouses; a room across from a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy that was a sunny, summer forest clearing with a comfortable hammock inside but was gone the next night; a room that was nothing but giant fireplaces and an attic full of chopped wood, and he found a chamber that he was pretty sure was the personal chamber of a professor, one that didn't stay at Hogwarts for the hols.

A few nights into his new exploration habit, Hellion found an unused classroom. There were dark shapes of desks and chairs that were piled against the walls, and an upturned wastepaper basket in a corner—but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn't look as if it belonged there.

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top:  _ Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi, _ right underneath:  _ The Mirror of Erised. _

Hellion attempted to pronounce the phrase a couple of times before shrugging, eyes dropping down to see his non-reflection.

He jumped sky high, snapping his jaw closed around a surprised yelp. He whirled around, his heart pounding furiously and switchblade out and open in his hand—because he had seen not only himself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind him.

But the room was empty. Breathing very fast, he turned slowly back to the mirror.

There he was, reflected in it, pale face and wide-eyed, and there, reflected behind him, were at least ten others. Hellion looked over his shoulder—but still, no one was there. Or were they invisible, too? Was he in fact in a room full of invisible people and this mirror's trick was that it reflected them, invisible or not?

Switchblade remaining open and getting himself ready to attack, he looked into the mirror again. A woman standing right behind his reflection was smiling kindly at him and waving. He spun and swiped the blade at where the woman should have been, but his blade just sliced through thin air. He peeked back into the mirror to see the woman was entirely unaffected.

He scrambled back some, noting where the others were, then tried attacking them, too, swiping his blade left and right. He kept hitting nothing but air.

Panting, he returned to the mirror, realising the people must only exist in it, not the room.

He looked cautiously back to the kind-looking woman. She was very pretty with dark red hair and her eyes— _ her eyes are just like mine, _ Hellion thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green—exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just like Hellion's did.

Hellion was so close to the mirror now that his nose was nearly touching that of his reflection, realisation hitting him like a hex.

"Mum?" he whispered. "Dad?"

They just looked at him, smiling, and slowly, Hellion looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror and saw other pairs of green eyes like his, other noses like his, even a little old man who looked as though he had Hellion's knobbly knees—Hellion was looking at his family, for the first time in his life.

His throat tightened almost painfully, and he had to gulp a few times to loosen it.

The Potters smiled and waved at Hellion, and he stared hungrily back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass despite his now closed switchblade, as though he was hoping to fall right through and reach them. He had a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness.

"Hi," he whispered.

His mother gave what looked to be a watery chuckle and mouthed 'hi' back.

Struggling to keep his wits about him, Hellion looked away and took a step backward.

A mirror that showed him his family? Were they ghosts? Was it a mirror into the afterlife?

No, that couldn't be it. Hellion hadn't just lost family in his lifetime, and if it were a mirror into the afterlife, a way to see his loved ones that passed on, there would be a couple of his friends in there too. And if they were just ghosts, why would they be stuck in a mirror?

It made no sense. His family was  _ dead _ . His parents were  _ murdered _ , taken from him, on purpose, killed.

He looked back into the mirror, at their smiling, happy faces, every one of them looking at Hellion as though he was the only thing that mattered in the whole world. Pure, unchecked rage shattered any sentiment in his chest. They weren't real—they weren't his family.

With a roar of emotions, Hellion snatched one of the chairs by the wall and hurled it at the mirror. It hit right against the glass and chattered onto the floor, not even leaving a scratch. The lack of shattering glass fuelled Hellion's rage, and with a cry, he began throwing everything he could at it, desperate to break the mirror and leave it in pieces. He didn't know how long he spent trying to destroy the thing, but eventually, he was out of breath and the early morning birds were singing, warning him of imminent dawn.

Unable to just leave the mirror where it stood, glistening as though proud of itself, Hellion barked a charm that allowed him to write with his wand like a marker and began drawing on the mirror. He drew moustaches on his family's reflections, weird glasses, goatees, and ridiculous hair. He then drew some graffiti, writing over the inscription: THE MIRROR OF FUCKED UP, and finished his art with drawing a large penis in the mirror's centre.

Kicking some broken pieces of furniture out of his way, he stormed from the room.

Hellion withdrew. He tried to get some sleep when he returned to his dorm, but every time he got close, he would see his family's faces. He spent almost the entire day in his dorm; the only time he left was during dinner when he went up to the Owlery to visit Serenity. His owl appeared to have enjoyed the Christmas treats he got her, and she listened attentively as he told her everything about the mirror. She nibbled at his ear in affection and sympathy, but Hellion didn't feel any better when he left.

He retreated back to his dorm, sullen and in a bad mood.

He was lying on his bed, staring out his window watching shadows of fish swim by, when a knock came to the door. He refused to move. The knock sounded again, and Severus' voice called for him to come open the door.

Hellion didn't.

With an audible sigh that even Hellion could hear from inside, Severus opened the door himself.

"Hellion, we need to talk."

Hellion grabbed his father's cloak where it hung from one of his four bedposts and flung it over himself.

"Ah. So, that's how. I wondered how you suddenly became so proficient at sneaking out. You've gone and gotten yourself an Invisibility Cloak. Well… I suppose it was only a matter of time, really."

"Go away."

"Now, why would you think that would work on me?" Severus challenged, coming to stand at the foot of Hellion's bed. He had shut the door, so Hellion knew he wouldn't be able to bolt without Severus knowing and chasing on his heels, despite being invisible.

Several minutes passed in silence as Hellion just laid there under the cloak with Severus staring down at him. Then slowly, Severus said, "The Mirror of Fucked Up?"

Hellion huffed.

"Not the most creative name. I told the Headmaster that we are perhaps fortunate you're merely a first-year and don't know any spells to do permanent vandalism yet. Still, as it stands, a few chairs have been broken beyond the point of  _ Reparo _ ."

Hellion didn't answer.

"Some of the professors are outraged that you apparently cannot understand the concept of respecting school property, but the Headmaster seems to think that you understand it quite well, which is why you did what you did."

Hellion didn't answer.

"What we can't figure out is how moustaches and mohawks are meant to be insulting or offensive. The Headmaster's theory is that the _ ancient, powerful  _ and _ priceless _ Mirror of Erised… shows you something you consider unforgivable."

Hellion still didn't answer.

"He believes you have been going on late-night strolls this past week, exploring the school, and you stumbled upon the mirror by chance. Whatever the mirror showed you caused you great emotional pain, and so in compensation, you tried destroying the mirror. When that didn't work, you defaced it. Mocked it. Showing the mirror and the rest of the world exactly what you think of it."

Hellion scowled from underneath the cloak but continued to remain silent.

Severus let out a slow breath and sat on the end of the bed, his wrist knocking against Hellion's invisible shoe, probably to make sure Hellion was still there. Trouble mewled at Severus from the floor, clearly wanting to be picked up. Severus ignored him.

"While you were graffitiing one the wizarding world's most invaluable, unparalleled, and irreplaceable artefacts in all of history, did you pause to think of what the mirror is supposed to do and why you saw what you saw?"

Hellion squirmed, because no, he didn't.

Severus must have felt him because he continued on as if Hellion answered. "I thought as much. That mirror is a dangerous, dangerous item. Many others have at one point or another become obsessed with it, obsessed with what they see, and they waste away, yearning and letting what is real—their lives—slip away. Want to take a guess at what they see?"

Hellion chewed on his lip a moment, then whispered, "Their families."

Severus sighed again, but it sounded a little sad. "I thought so," he mumbled. "No, Hellion. The Mirror of Erised shows us our heart's deepest desires."

"Oh."

"For some, that would be perhaps piles of gold, or a change in physical appearance, a position of high respect maybe, to each his own. For you… it's your family. I can see how that could feel unforgivable."

They fell quiet, Hellion feeling vulnerable, but he refused to budge from his spot or speak first. Eventually, Trouble sought him out and jumped up on Hellion's shoulder to curl up, giving the impression that the kitten was floating above the bed. Severus shook his head at it.

"Though we have been working at getting you to channel your particular… spirited ways through Quidditch, I've never expected it to work one hundred percent. It's understandable, your reaction, but not excusable. You vandalised a priceless historical artefact and you disrespected Hogwarts and school property. You keep finding more and more creative ways to break school rules. Docking House points barely faze you, detentions are becoming redundant and more and more meaningless, and I struggle to come up with proper punishment. I feel as though there is very little I can do."

Hellion bolted upright, knocking Trouble over and his cloak slipping down to his waist. "Holy hell, Sevvy, you ain't kickin' me out, are you?!"

Severus looked briefly relieved at Hellion coming out from under the cloak, but otherwise remained stern. "No… but I am glad you realise expulsion is an option available to us if we feel we have no other choice."

Panic spiked through Hellion, terrified and crushed at the thought.

"Fine!" he yelled. "I'll just leave right now!"

He jumped up to do just that—leave before they could get a chance to tell him he wasn't wanted, but Severus stood, too, hands coming up and saying in the sternest voice Hellion had ever heard from him, "No, Hellion, you will not."

"Oh, yes I will," he challenged. "I don' need you! I don' need any of you's! I was better off on me own anyway!"

He tried to get around Severus, but Severus stood firmly in front of him. He reached out, both hands coming to only hover over Hellion's shoulders. It was far more effective of stopping Hellion than touching him ever would have been.

"You know that's not true. Calm down, boy. Just because expulsion is an option  _ any  _ school has, it doesn't mean we are anywhere close to it. I would go to heads with the Headmaster himself before that could ever happen."

Hellion scowled at Severus, but his hammering heart did begin to slow down.

"Oh, Hellion," Severus sighed once more and sat heavily on the bed. He patted next to him for Hellion to sit, which he did, hesitant though he was. "I swear, I have never met a more difficult child in my entire life. No one is expelling you, alright? So, get that out of your head."

Hellion hugged his stomach and nodded.

"Good. Now, there's still the matter your misbehaving. Clearly, we are not disciplining you the right way. So, I ask you, Hellion, what do you think your punishment should be?"

Hellion shrugged petulantly.

"That wasn't a rhetorical question."

Hellion spared him a confused glance. "Y'mean you want  _ me _ to punish me?"

"Not exactly. I want to know what you think we can do to best teach you about respecting school property, and perhaps controlling your temper."

"I dunno."

Severus didn't accept this answer. He stayed silent, watching Hellion and waiting.

Hellion began to squirm a little. They were letting him stay—Severus seemed determined for it, and despite himself, he trusted that. If all he had to do was think up a punishment for himself, he could do that. "I dunno… I… guess, I could clean up the mess I made."

"That has already been cleaned up."

"Then clean up another mess?" Hellion tried to suggest.

"Hm," Severus said, looking up thoughtfully and rubbing his chin. Hellion did not like the look on his face. "Now, there's an idea…"

"Crap. Wha'?"

Severus smirked. "Starting tomorrow, and continuing for two weeks, you are responsible for cleaning up after… Peeves."

"Wha'?!" Hellion cried, jumping to his feet again. "You can't do tha'! Peeves destroys everything! Peeves  _ is _ a mess!"

"Ah," Severus grinned wickedly, clearly satisfied with Hellion's reaction, "I believe that just might be the right penance."

"No!" Hellion protested. "Make me do somthin' else! I'll clean that entire trophy room, top to bottom!"

"I believe just cleaning up after Peeves will suffice," Severus answered, getting up and heading toward the door.

"Nuh-uh!" Hellion argued, following. "There's loads else I could do! I could… I could clean your cauldrons for the entire term! Or… Flitwick's boards— _ Professor _ Flitwick's boards! I can make 'em like brand new. Or the Owlery! I'll clean the whole Owlery!"

"I don't think so," Severus replied, sounding thoroughly amused.

"Oh, come on!" Hellion cried, still following Severus through the commons. He paused in the middle, watching Severus leave. Before he could, Hellion called out, "Promise me Peeves won't  _ know _ I'm doin' it! He can't find out! Who  _ knows _ wha' he'll do if he finds out!"

Hellion wasn't sure, but he thought he heard Severus laugh before the stone archway closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because it's been a while since I've been able to post, this is a triple chapter update! If you don't see next chapter button available, try refreshing the page! Once these are posted, I'll circle back to reply to everyone.  
> Thank you so much for reading!  
> If you want, I would love to know what you think about Hellion's reaction to the mirror and the Severus-Hellion scene at the end.


	12. Quidditch Season Continues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Quidditch game. But I’m doing it differently from the books. For one, I’ve tried to add in actual plays, and I’m trying to make them more exciting.  
> Also, the whole Quidditch Cup system still doesn’t make sense to me at all, so I’ve created one that might do while trying to keep it close to canon. I hope it's successful.
> 
> Heads-up: for those of you annoyed or not liking Draco's jealousy, it comes to a head in this chapter, somewhat resolved in the next. But Hellion tells him off end this chapter/ beginning next.

When Hellion told his friends that he was caught roaming around after curfew and disrespecting school property, not a one of them were surprised. When he told them what his punishment was, not a one of them besides Hermione held back their laughter.

Hellion hid his cloak in his trunk and didn't take it back out for the rest of the hols. The last few days of it, Hellion spent with Ron and the twins, finishing up homework and debating their Houses' chances at the Quidditch Cup.

In no time, the other students came back to Hogwarts, and Hellion was happy to see them. Hermione was quick to pull him aside, give him a big hug, and show him several passages in several books about Nicholas Flamel—her being able to find them easily once Hellion owled her the information Draco gave. Draco was also quick to pull Hellion aside later that night to tell him he interviewed the shop owner in Diagon that witnessed Dumbledore at Gringotts, and Draco strongly believed that the people seen with him were the Flamels.

Hellion, Draco, Hermione, and the Weasleys were all unanimous that what was hidden at the school had to be the Philosopher's Stone. Hellion and the Weasleys, in particular, loved the idea of it, and they often got into obsessive conversation about what they would do if they had it. Somewhere along the way, they decided they needed to learn what else could be protecting the Stone, and Hellion's rebellious mind was already thinking about ways to get past Fluffy and the troll.

Lessons resumed, and soon everyone was busy with assignments. For the first fortnight, Hellion barely had a moment to himself, what with lessons, homework, Quidditch practise, regular detentions he still needed to finish from last term, and  _ Peeves _ . He didn't have the energy to act out during class, but even when he did, the teachers didn't dock points or hand out detention. Instead, they threatened to tell Peeves about his on-going punishment, and no matter what, it effectively shut Hellion up real quick.

Unfortunately, Peeves did eventually find out, and the last two days of his punishment was nothing short of torture. It wasn't until Peeve's pranks almost caused Hellion to fall from one of the towers did Severus put a stop to it. Rumour was he then sent the Bloody Barron to deal with Peeves afterwards, but the Bloody Barron could have also taken the initiative as Hellion was in his House. Either way, Peeves was subdued for days after.

There was a bit of tension between his two sets of friends. Draco didn't know the Weasleys had stayed at Hogwarts over the hols, and when Hellion told him of their great time, Draco fumed for a long while. Furthermore, Hellion's strengthened bond with them seemed to put a wedge between some other Slytherins too. Blaise and Daphne, for example, didn't seem to care one way or the other. Pansy, on the other hand, asked after his mental health and began lashing out at Ron and Hermione, mostly Hermione, when she could. Honestly, she seemed as distrustful of them as they were of her.

The tension for Draco and the twins seemed to hit a make-or-break point one weekend morning on the way to breakfast when Fred and George were waiting by the edge of the dungeons. Hellion noticed them and broke away from his group. George looked at something over Hellion shoulder and gestured for someone else to come over as well.

"Wha's the crack?" Hellion asked. He looked behind him to see it was Draco that George waved over.

"What the blazes to do  _ you _ want?" Draco sneered as he came to stand next to Hellion.

"Certainly not the pleasure of your company," Fred replied without missing a beat.

"You want to find out who hexed Hellion's broom, don't you?" George raised an eyebrow.

Draco crossed his arms. "What do you know?"

"Yeah," Hellion agreed, "wha's up?"

"We heard Trelawney is coming down with a cold," George answered, "and that she mentioned yesterday in one of her classes she would be popping by the hospital wing for Pepper-Up this weekend."

"The elusive mysterious professor will be leaving her tower and making an appearance in the castle," Fred continued.

Hellion looked to Draco. "You can finally find out if she's the professor you saw on Halloween."

Draco was clearly unhappy about this, but he nodded all the same. This would be about the third or fourth time the twins had taken them to try to get a look at Trelawney, even though Severus told them ages ago that he confirmed it was her. They wanted to confirm it for themselves. They heard plenty of stories about her, of course, having asked around. Draco didn't trust her, but he said he was pretty sure that if the woman he met really was Professor Trelawney, he doubted she would actually be up to something nefarious. Odd, but harmless, was what both Draco and Severus said. Hellion and Draco, however, just found it curious and a tad suspicious that she apparently never left her tower.

Fred and George, of course, just like the mystery. Even though they were third-years, they didn't take her class and only had the regular vague descriptions of her to go on. They often conspired that someone else could have had glasses and shaws with them to  _ pose _ as the professor, knowing others would assume it was her upon description. It was a feeble point, but a point nonetheless.

When they passed by the Great Hall, Draco told them to wait while he dipped inside.

"Can he not skip one meal?" Fred asked, watching him go.

Hellion shrugged. "It's actually for me, I think."

"What do you mean?"

Hellion shrugged again, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "He just… he always makes sure I eat, s'all. Actually, come to think of it…" he trailed off, suddenly realising he didn't have any food on him.

He didn't even notice when he had gotten into this new, altered habit of always making sure he had some kind of food close by, just in case—always, just in case. What was more surprising, though, was the realisation that he didn't have food on him because  _ Draco _ was back. Hellion still hoarded food during the hols, maybe even spotted doing it by Ron, but he stopped when Draco returned. Because Draco always made sure to save him food, and somehow over the past few months, had gotten into the habit himself of carrying food around and handing Hellion snacks throughout the day.

"Huh," he huffed, touched.

"What?" the twins asked.

"Draco, he… I just realised, he always keeps food handy for me."

The twins laughed. "What?" George asked. "Why in the world would he do that?"

"Because he knows," Hellion answered, not entirely present in the conversation, "'bout me life, outside school. I used to have to go days without food, just nicking what I cou-"

Suddenly registering what he was saying, Hellion snapped his jaw shut and looked at the twins with wide eyes, mind racing how to cover up what he just said. He drew a blank.

"Crap. I didn't say tha'."

The twins were frowning at him, looking like they didn't know what to say.

"Lookit, forget I said anythin'."

"I don't know…" Fred began.

"Yeah, Hellion, if you go days without food-"

"I didn't say tha'!" Hellion barked. "I didn't say nothin', alright? I was just realising Draco's a good egg, s'all. And he is, y'know. D'you know he helped me donate all this money to muggle shelters over the hols?"

The twins looked floored by this, George's mouth falling open.

"Yeah," Hellion said, more confident on the solid ground of distraction, "tha's right. He also helped me organise the financin' for programmes at me muggle library for the underprivileged. We even made these gift baskets for the muggle homeless with things like shoes tha' don't get no holes—which ain't exactly legal, mind, so don't tell.  _ And _ he spent Christmas Day at a wizarding shelter, volunteering to feed the homeless. So, there."

The twins were saved from doing anything but shake out of their shock by Draco exiting the Great Hall, two breakfast sandwiches in his hands.

He gave one to Hellion then looked at the twins impatiently. "Well," he drawled, mastering the perfect balance of annoyed and bored in his tone, "are we going or what?"

George snorted, and Fred shook his head in apparent disbelief.

"Hellion, I think you broke my brain," Fred said.

Hellion chuckled. "Shuddup, come on."

"I would say your brain couldn't possibly get more broken," Draco said as they started up the stairs, "but loathe I am to admit, you two,  _ sometimes _ , can be rather competent."

"Ooh, high praise, George, did you hear that?"

"We should write home, Fred. Dad would be so proud."

Draco rolled his eyes, and Hellion suppressed another chuckle.

They climbed up to the corridor leading to the hospital wing, and they crouched down behind a set of armour to wait it out, see who was coming and going. Hellion thought about how much easier it would have been with his Invisibility Cloak, but he wasn't about to share that with anyone. He was already annoyed with himself for having let his emotions get the better of him and revealing he had it to Severus.

It was about a two-hour wait before anything remotely interesting happened. Professor Quirrell rounded the corridor at the other end, limping hurriedly toward the hospital wing.

"What's that about, do you think?" Draco asked.

"Familiar limp," Fred said, giving George a significant look.

Hellion, observant and knowing the twins like he did, pursed his lips, sensing where this was going.

"What?" Draco asked, looking among the three of them.

"Professor Snape," George answered.

"What about him?"

"Halloween, remember?" Hellion supplied. "Severus and Fluffy?"

Draco nodded and frowned toward the hospital wing. "How can we be sure it's the same thing?"

"Follow us," the twins said together, and then the four of them began to creep their way along the corridor, getting closer to the hospital wing. When they were at the door, Fred told the three of them to cover him, then flattened himself on the ground, his ear pressed against the crack between the door and floor.

"How perfectly uncouth," Draco complained but taking his position to watch for approaching people anyway.

"Hate to break it to you, mate, but there ain't nothin'  _ couth _ 'bout spyin'," Hellion said.

"I beg to differ," Draco argued. "Some spywork requires the utmost couth."

"Shh, both of you," George whispered.

They fell quiet, waiting with bated breath for several minutes until Fred quickly got up, gesturing for them to hurry back to their hiding spot.

"We have to think of a better way for that," Fred said quietly to George.

"Well?" Hellion asked.

"Hold on."

Right then, the doors to the hospital wing opened, and Quirrell was limping away, muttering to himself and holding a large jar. Once he was gone, the four of them turned to each other.

"It was Fluffy," Fred reported. "Quirrell said he was patrolling the forbidden area of the castle and thought he heard a disturbance. Madam Pomfrey asked why he didn't go get Hagrid, and Quirrell said he thought there wasn't time. Pomfrey gave him a real talking-to about taking unnecessary risks, and some salve for the bite."

"Why get Hagrid?" Draco asked. "Quirrell's part of the protection, isn't he? Shouldn't he know how to handle that beast?"

"Good point," George hummed.

"Well, not exactly," Hellion pointed out. "I mean… it  _ is _ Quirrell. He might know how in theory, but do any of us really think he  _ could _ ?"

The three others snorted. "Point," Draco conceded.

They waited around until lunch before they decided to quit. Fred and George tried going into the hospital wing to get Pepper-Up themselves in hopes of finding out if anyone else had been by for some. Madam Pomfrey saw through them, though, accusing them of this and that. Thus, the elusive Trelawney remained secreted once more.

"D'you think she's not really a fraud?" Hellion suggested. "Like, she knows when we're tryin' to get a look at her?"

"I… don't think so?" Draco tried, and the twins laughed at his doubtful expression, as though Draco made a joke.

Draco seemed surprised at the genuine laughter from them, looking almost like if they weren't laughing maliciously, he couldn't trust it. Hellion nudged him with his elbow, grinning, trying to encourage the blond. Draco rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched with a ghost of a smile.

It would seem that small bridge was all that was needed for Draco to finally accept the twins. 

The twins accepting Draco, however, probably wasn't going to be that easy.

The next Quidditch game of the season was Slytherin versus Ravenclaw, and when Hellion went down to practise one evening, he found a thoroughly smug-looking Marcus.

"What's going on?" Adrian asked as the rest of the team assembled in the locker room.

"Good news, everyone!" Marcus grinned wickedly. "Professor Snape will be refereeing our next game!"

"What?!" Miles and Victor exclaimed happily as Chris punched the air and let out a whoop.

"Madam Hooch has… I don't know, something else going on, who cares," Marcus waved the reason off. "The point is, Professor Snape is refereeing."

"Game's in the bag, then," Adrian smirked, bringing his hands up behind his head and reclining back on the bench. "We don't even need to practise if Snape's refereeing."

Marcus chuckled but shook his head. "Maybe, but we're better than that. We don't want the whole school thinking we only won because of Snape. We have an excellent team, do we not?"

Marcus' tone changed at the end, sounding as though he was trying to build a cheer.

"Yeah!" a few of them exclaimed.

"Which team is it that won the Quidditch Cup for five years running, huh?"

"Ours!" the rest chanted, Hellion joining with a wide grin.

"Who  _ crushed _ Gryffindor and Hufflepuff last year?"

"We did!"

"Who holds the record for the most points scored in one game within the last two centuries?"

"We do!"

"So, who's going to win against Ravenclaw?!"

"We are!"

"And are we going to win because of some referee?"

"Probably!" the six of them answered without missing a beat.

Marcus laughed, shaking his head. "Okay, no—do we need a biased referee to win?!"

"No!"

"Can we win purely on our talents and skills?!"

"Yeah!"

"So, are we just going to lay around?!"

"No!"

"What are we going to do?!"

"Practise!" Hellion, Miles, Victor, Terence, and Adrian cried as Chris shouted, "I dunno, but this is exciting!"

They laughed.

"Practise!" Marcus shouted. "Come on!"

Their practices leading up to the match were the most fun they had had all year. With Severus refereeing, the pressure was definitely gone. Not that they didn't practise seriously, but they weren't nearly as stressed out—especially compared to the Ravenclaw team. Their captain had upped their practices to four times a week, and the other two Houses were more than happy to hand over their scheduled practise times to them.

It was a little disheartening, seeing the entire school rallying behind Ravenclaw just because they assumed preemptively how unfair Severus was going to be. It made him respect Severus a bit more, always willing to be hated as the bad guy just to try to balance some favours against Slytherin prejudices. With having most of the school looking at Hellion as though they were either terrified of him or like he was scum, it was nice to know that in Potions or during their next match, he would get a bit of a break for once.

It was a catch-twenty-two, though, because the more Severus favoured the Slytherins, the more the rest of the school hated them. Still, it was a reprieve, and he appreciated it.

Also, as far as all of Slytherin was concerned, with Severus refereeing, the chances of another player on their team getting hexed again were very low. Hellion was definitely less anxious about the possibility.

Hellion and the rest of the team tried their best not to smirk as they met with Ravenclaw in the middle of the pitch, the captains shaking hands before kicking off to start the game. Every one of the Ravenclaw players looked gloomy and pained, and Hellion couldn't blame them. They had lost against Hufflepuff in November, and even though Slytherin was currently dead-last in the Cup running, if Slytherin won by at least a hundred points, they would take Ravenclaw's place as third.

The Ravenclaw Chasers were Philip Martin, Roland Curtis, and Mary Snyder, and they were really good. They won the coin toss and wasted no time in being the first to score. Hellion, Marcus, and Adrian were excellent at offence, however, and could fake a mesh toss better than any of them. Taking possession of the Quaffle twice in a row, they did a shallow cross and scored both times, making it twenty to ten, Slytherin, just within the first ten minutes of the game.

The rest of the game was ruthless.

Ravenclaw couldn't get slightly aggressive without Severus calling a penalty, and Severus conveniently never saw when a rogue Bludger went after the Ravenclaw's Keeper as Slytherin got ready to score. That, however, was the most unfair Severus was to them—despite it being completely unforgivable to the rest of the school. When Chris fouled, hitting Curtis instead of the Bludger with his bat, Severus awarded Ravenclaw a penalty and took off Slytherin House points with a warning that if his team fouled again, it would be even more House points.

Of course, no other team ever got their House points docked for Quidditch fouls (Houses only ever won points if they won the Cup), but Hellion doubted the rest of the school cared if they bothered to notice. He thought about purposely fouling just to spotlight it, but he was already too close to breaking the record of the most House points lost by a first-year.

The game continued on, Hellion doing his best to prove to the school that he deserved to be on the team, and that their team deserved to win. The Ravenclaw Seeker and Terence Higgs chased and lost the Snitch twice within the first hour of the game, but as the second hour was coming to a close, Hellion did something he had only recently gotten the hang of: the Woollongong Shimmy. Adrian and Marcus hooped and hollered their support, getting out of his way, and he successfully confused not just the Ravenclaw's Chasers but also their Keeper, scoring yet again for Slytherin. For once, the cheers of the Slytherin section wasn't drowned out by the boo's of the rest of the school.

"Great job!" Marcus praised, giving him a high-five before the Quaffle was pelted back.

Hellion snuck a glance at Severus as he chased after Snyder, and he thought he saw a nod of support aimed his way.

If that didn't prove to the school he deserved his position, nothing would.

Half an hour later, the game finally came to an end, Terence catching the Snitch. Slytherin won: eight-hundred and sixty to six-hundred and ninety.

His teammates and friends didn't try to hug him, having learned by now that it would not be appreciated, but they did high-five him and cheered. There was a spectacular party that night in the commons, the entire House celebrating as well as collaborating on how they could help Slytherin win the Cup.

In the end, they knew the rest of the school would just contribute their victory to Severus refereeing, but they themselves knew the truth. They proved to themselves that they were enough to win, and that made the victory all the sweeter.

Hellion went to bed that night feeling the most accomplished he could ever remember feeling.

Unfortunately, their possibility of winning the Quidditch Cup depended much on the outcome of the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff match. Hufflepuff was the last House Slytherin would play against way off in May, and if Hufflepuff could beat Gryffindor, they stood a chance for the Cup by just beating Hufflepuff.

Gryffindor, naturally, had other plans.

Madam Hooch was back to refereeing, but as that wasn't announced until the morning of the match. Gryffindor had been practising nonstop under the assumption that Severus would be refereeing and favour Hufflepuff for Slytherin. Therefore, they were more than prepared.

"Aren't they pleased," Draco complained where they sat in the stands, scowling at the Gryffindor team with eyes that promised a slow and painful death.

"Aw, Draco, don't let 'em do your nut," Hellion teased.

"Gross," Blaise laughed.

"How can you both be so blasé? Especially you, Hellion—you're  _ on _ our team," accused Draco.

Hellion raised his hands. "Oi, mate, I can't affect nothin' here."

"Maybe you want Gryffindor to win," Draco hissed to Hellion. "You and that wanker Weasley!"

"Draco…" Hellion warned.

"Honestly," Draco went on heedlessly, "why you still insist on being his friend, I'll never figure out. The twins I get, they're useful, but  _ Ronald _ ? What use is he to you? Blaise is worth twelve of him, even Vincent and Greg would be more valuable—they could protect you, or shield you at the very least-"

"They're me friends, too, I can've more than one, y'know."

"Don't be so dense, that's not what I'm talking about. Weasley can hardly be beneficial to you. Their family is a complete joke, more children than they can afford-"

"Hey!"

"-hardly anyone at the Ministry respects Arthur Weasley, unlike the parents of your fellows, and Weasley's not particularly talented, doesn't have any ambition, a complete twit in class-"

"Draco!"

"You can't  _ use _ him-"

"Stop!" Hellion yelled, making several people look over at him. "Piss off," he told them. "Tha's right, piss off, turn around." Once their focus was back on the game, Hellion whispered angrily to Draco, "I  _ hate _ it when you do that—degrade people to their  _ usefulness _ to me! It creeps me the fuck out! They're me  _ friends _ . And in case you actually dunno what tha' means—you don't turn your back on friends, even if they are gormless, useless lumps—which Ron  _ isn't _ . And hey, some would even say  _ especially _ if they're gormless, useless lumps because they'd need protectin' then. So stop, Draco, I mean it."

Draco looked like he wanted to argue, perhaps get in a screaming row regardless of where they were or who was around, but suddenly the crowd's noise boomed, and they looked back at the game to see Wood had caught the Snitch.

"Well, there you go!" Draco yelled at Hellion as though Gryffindor winning was his fault. "Happy now?"

"Fuck you!" Hellion spat back, already pushing through the crowd to get away from him.

Hellion knew Draco was mostly just jealous of Ron. It usually crept up whenever the Gryffindor Quidditch team was mentioned. Hellion sometimes felt like Draco thought it should have been him Hellion invited down to fly after curfew, not Ron, and that Draco should be on their team with him instead of Ron on his. Sometimes he felt like Draco was in his own little competition with Ron to be a better friend to Hellion. If only he could realise he was the only one competing. It made Hellion extremely uncomfortable, but one thing Hellion absolutely had no truck for was when Draco turned it around, grading himself and others with how well they  _ served _ Hellion.

He didn't think he had ever actually yelled 'fuck you' to Draco's face seriously before that day, but he had lost count how many times he had wanted to. Honestly, Hellion would have given up on Draco and happily pretend he didn't exist if Draco wasn't so insistent on being his friend. Sometimes, Hellion just wanted to say fuck it all with Draco, but then Draco would do something like have a plate of food for Hellion after his detention or retie his tie a better way or create a study sheet for Hellion without having been asked. He was also the only one of his friends that helped with Peeves during those horrible two weeks (Hermione would offer advice, but as it was his punishment, she didn't help).

Hellion appreciated it, but with the way Draco talked sometimes, it made him extra uncomfortable with Draco's unprompted acts of service.

And with some rumours that Hellion knew of, about him being the next Dark Lord, not to mention with some of the suspicions others had about how he even survived Tom Riddle, it made Hellion question Draco's motives completely.

Hellion ignored Draco the rest of the day and brushed him off when he tried talking to him. He sat squarely between Blaise and Daphne during dinner, and even though he felt acutely aware of the blond's eyes on him, he forced himself to focus only on his friends and even talked shop with Adrian on how much they would need to beat Hufflepuff by to stand a chance at winning the Cup.

Most of the Gryffindor table was empty, all of them probably up in their Tower celebrating. When his group was leaving the Great Hall though, something red and gold from the corner of his eye caught his attention.

Ron, Fred, and George were standing stealthily up the grand staircase, subtly waving him up.

"You go on," Hellion quietly told Blaise.

Blaise shrugged, never one to be too curious or care too much, but he did notice Blaise put a hand on Draco's shoulder to keep him walking.

Sighing and wondering how the atmosphere in their dorm was going to be that night, he made his way to the Weasleys.

"Wha's the crack?"

"Not here," George said, "let's find an empty room."

They made sure Peeves wasn't inside before shutting the door behind them to an empty classroom, then the Weasleys turned gravely to Hellion.

"Wha'?"

"Well," Ron opened awkwardly, "see, we were leaving the locker rooms after the game…"

"And we noticed somebody walking real quick-like to the forest, right?" George picked up.

"Well, see, George and I know Snape's walk from anyone's," Fred continued.

Ron nodded, "He was wearing this cloak, too, with its hood up, like he was trying to hide."

"And we thought, that's suspicious enough, and who would just go for a stroll in the forest—you know, besides Hagrid and us," Fred said.

"So, we followed him," George shrugged.

"Yeah," Ron said, "we got on our brooms and just sort of flew on top of the trees until he found him."

"Ron almost fell off," George smirked.

"Shut up," Ron swatted at him. "That's not the point."

"Then wha's the point?" Hellion asked, getting an ominous feeling.

The three brothers eyed each other, obviously wanting to choose their words carefully, before Ron simply blurted, "Snape's after the Philosopher's Stone. He had Quirrell meet him out there, and he was bullying Quirrell about finding out how to get past Fluffy. He also mentioned Quirrell's own hocus-pocus, and we reckon Quirrell must be more involved than just the troll—if there really is a troll."

"We already thought there would be loads of enchantments," Fred said next.

"Reckon Quirrell's done some anti-Dark Arts spells?" George suggested.

"Wait," Hellion held up a hand, "what?"

"It makes sense," Ron said. "You only think Snape was the one who brought the Stone here because  _ Snape _ said so. Hermione  _ saw _ him hexing your broom, Hellion, and we think it's more likely that Snape was the one who broke into the Gringotts bank."

"You've got to admit, mate," Fred said, "there is a lot of evidence against him, and other than maybe-kind of-if you squint-Trelawney, he's the best fit for this."

"Why would Se-Snape hex me?" Hellion challenged.

"You saw him at the bank," Ron explained. "You know too much, you've seen Fluffy for yourself, and you fought the troll! He knew Malfoy would have told you he'd seen Snape hurt on Halloween, even Fred and George, too, when they saw him in the staff room. When hexing you didn't work, he got you on his side instead. He probably only refereed your game to make you think he really is trying to keep you safe, or maybe hex you but throw suspicion off him, but he didn't get a chance or something. And we  _ heard _ him. He asked Quirrell point-blank if he figured out how to get past Fluffy."

"We saw Quirrell that day, when we stalked the hospital wing," George added.

Fred nodded, "He did try to get past Fluffy, whatever excuses he used."

"Okay…" Hellion rubbed his eyes. "Look, talk to Hermione 'bout it, see wha' she says."

"What about you?" Ron asked.

Hellion shrugged and made a noncommittal noise. He hadn't told the others about the Life Oath, mostly because he didn't want to explain why Severus needed to activate it to find him in the first place. It was a major factor here, looking at Severus as the attackers or any kind of suspect, but he wasn't ready to let anyone know about it, at least not yet.

"Watch your back, mate," George said.

"And your front," Fred added.

"I always do," Hellion grinned before leaving.

His trek back to the dungeons was long enough to put him back in another foul mood. He needed to think, preferably think out loud, and other than Severus, there was only one other person he could talk openly with about it all. 

Goddamn Draco and making sure he was bloody  _ useful _ to Hellion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friend pointed out, why would Hellion get upset over the idea of his friends being 'useful' in the way Draco implies when he'd be used to that kind of thing anyway. Well, here's my reasoning and thinking:  
> Yes, Hellion is absolutely used to it, and wouldn't have any qualms about using people and doing what he could to achieve an end; however, now he's in this world where he can be a kid, have lessons and timetables he must follow, detentions even, and actually have friends his age who are young and as kids should be. To me, there's a divide in his mind. Keeping people around based on how he can use them or how they could benefit him is something for the streets, not Hogwarts, so he lashes out at the implication it would be the same.  
> Also, there's the whole 'next Dark Lord' thing that just miffs him and creeps him out.  
> My beta also points out: "Not only that, as he said, if Ron really was that useless then he would need protecting, and as soon as he had the resources to do so, Hellion gave to those people he knew needed help, gave shoes, blankets, pillows, made sure the food at Hogwarts wasn’t wasted but went to those who needed it. Even as someone from the streets, he cares more about helping people than what use they can be to him, he just couldn’t do anything about it before."
> 
> Sorry for the long end-note! If you have any thoughts on the matter, I'd love to hear them. Absolutely open to constructive criticism, just please be kind.  
> (Reminder: triple chapter update! Refresh for that next chapter button!)


	13. Sir Lord Master Norbert the Inebriated

Hellion found Draco in the game room, and without a word to anyone, grabbed Draco by the collar and dragged up across the commons and to their dorm. He shoved the blond toward his bed and commanded him to sit.

Draco looked wary but obeyed, to Hellion's increased annoyance. He had wanted Draco to protest, to not give in.

"I'm still mad at you," Hellion told him, coming to sit on his own bed across from Draco. Trouble wasn't anywhere he could see, probably off somewhere in the dungeons hunting.

"Okay," Draco accepted.

"But I need to talk 'bout somethin'."

Draco looked relieved at that, probably thinking Hellion had dragged him to their dorms for a fight or beat down. "Of course," he said, moving to sit cross-legged. "What is it?"

Hellion related what the Weasleys told him and their theories.

"So, they're still on that Snape-kick then," Draco rolled his eyes. "You and I both know he didn't hex your broom."

"Yeah, the Life Oath, but…"

"But what?"

"Well, they're right in sayin' all's we got's his word."

Draco bristled. "You seriously are not telling me you trust those redheaded pillocks over Severus Snape?"

Hellion gave Draco a dirty look. "There is only  _ one _ person I really trust— _ me _ ."

Draco looked offended and properly stung by that.

Hellion pressed before he could interrupt, "Come off it, Draco. You and I both know the only reason why  _ you _ know wha' you do is because Sevvy and I were both stupid enough say wha' we did in front of you. Besides,  _ you're _ the one all about being  _ useful _ to me instead of carin' 'bout bein' my fuckin' friend!"

Not realising when he became so angry, Hellion stood and picked up a book that was on his bed and threw it at the wall, breathing heavily. He supposed Draco's comments from the match earlier had more of an effect on him than he would have thought.

Not looking at the blond and hating how he just sounded stung himself, he continued more evenly, "I want to trust Sevvy, but my track record of puttin' me trust in the wrong hands is pretty damn high. I need a way to verify wha' he's told me. I need to be sure. I couldn't give a rat's arse if he is after the stone, but I need to know who hexed me broom and who bloody else wants to hurt me."

There was a very heavy pause wherein Hellion stared broodily out the window, counting fish to calm his temper. Then Draco cleared his throat and said with obvious forced levity. "Right, because it's not like you aren't trying to get at the stone yourself anyway."

"I'm not…  _ actively _ going after it," Hellion said after a moment.

Draco snorted. "Hellion, just yesterday you were in the library trying to find out if troll skin is thicker than your blade."

"Still need to find tha' out," Hellion mumbled to himself.

After another strained pause, Draco said, "You know… I haven't told my father about the Philosopher's Stone."

Knowing somewhat of the relationship Draco had with his father, Hellion recognised that statement for the olive branch it was. He, however, didn't feel like taking it. Without another word and without looking at the blond, he walked out.

Hellion avoided Draco over the next several days, and to his credit, Draco let him. Moreover, Hellion avoided why he was so upset with Draco to begin with, even though he knew why. 

It was obvious at the end of the day, joining his fellow Slytherins in work rooms or the commons, that the problem was Hellion could so easily delude himself and pretend he was one of them. Pretend he was some spoiled nob that had wealthy parents sending him sweets and a mansion to go home to. It filled a longing in him, as well as past fantasies, but it wasn't real. The only people he thought wouldn't look at him with the utmost disgust if they saw him on the streets were Blaise and Daphne, and he knew that was only because they were a bit more polite. They would wait until Hellion couldn't see to sneer and insult him.

Therefore, it had been nice to have Draco, who knew the most about Hellion than any of the others and seemed to want to genuinely understand his circumstances, but Hellion couldn't help but wonder if he deluded himself in their friendship as well. How could the blond stand by him when he couldn't even support that Hellion had other friends?

For the time, he just wanted to avoid it all, so that was how Hellion found himself spending a lot of time with Ron and Hermione, apparently beginning to study for exams.

"Hermione, the exams are ages away."

"Ten weeks," Hermione snapped. "That's not ages, that's like a second to Nicolas Flamel."

"But we're not six hundred years old," Ron reminded her. "Anyway, what are you studying for, you already know it all."

"What am I studying for? Are you crazy? You realise we need to pass these exams to get into the second year? They're very important, I should have started studying months ago, leave you boys to your obsession-"

"We're not obsessed," Ron interrupted her.

Hermione gave the pile of books Hellion had gathered on protection charms a pointed look.

"Well,  _ I'm _ not obsessed," Ron shrugged, pulling his Potions book to him.

"Oh, sod off, you two," Hellion rolled his eyes. He liked Hermione well enough, but he felt his library friends could teach her a thing or two about relaxing. She wasn't his first choice to spend time with.

Ron and Hermione seemed to have gotten closer over the last few months, and even though Hellion was glad for it, happy they were both making close friends in their own House, he still sometimes felt like a third-wheel. Still, he knew Ron was thankful to have a non-school-fixated friend around.

Unfortunately, their professors seemed to think along the same lines as Hermione. They piled so much homework on them that the Easter hols weren't nearly as much fun as the Christmas ones. It was hard to relax with Hermione next to him, reciting the twelve uses of dragon's blood and practising wand movements. Moaning and yawning, Hellion and Ron spent most of their free time in the library with her, trying to get through their extra work.

Hellion was beginning to realise just how  _ useful _ Draco had been with his studies as well.

"I'll never remember this," Ron burst out one afternoon, throwing down his quill and looking longingly out the library window. It was the first really fine day they had had in months. The sky was a clear, forget-me-not blue, and there was a feeling in the air of summer coming.

Hellion had his  _ One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi _ out, intending to look up Dittany, but he was about as motivated as Ron. He idly flipped the pages, scanning the room now and then for a distraction. He watched lazily as Hagrid came into the library and disappeared between some shelves. It was a testament on just how big the library was if the giant could disappear. Especially since Hagrid looked out of place with his moleskin overcoat and, Hellion was pretty sure he saw, some twigs in his messy, thick mane. It didn't take long for Hagrid to re-emerge, a few books in hand, and he looked a bit shifty to Hellion. Probably was just nervous having to deal with Pince, the librarian.

Sighing, Hellion went back to flipping through his book, trying to ignore Hermione's fast-moving quill.

After a few minutes, a clearing of a throat made him look up again.

Draco stood there, looking uncertain but determined. "Hey. May I speak with you?"

He had a letter in his hand, and Hellion recognised the stationary being from Draco's parents. Draco had been getting a lot of letters from his father lately, more than usual, and was burning each one of them. Hellion had been curious, but he didn't want to pry.

Feeling a bit awkward with the distance between them lately, Hellion simply nodded and stood to follow Draco to a private alcove.

"Wha's the crack?"

"Several things, actually," Draco began. "First, my father was able to confirm that it was Snape that emptied the Gringotts vault before someone tried to rob it. He also found out that McGonagall's name was also on the account, as she's Deputy Headmistress here. Only she or Dumbledore could have gotten in and out of the vault without special permission, meaning, one or both of them gave Snape special permission to get inside the vault and move the stone here."

Hellion nodded, crossing his arms. "Tha's good then. But tha' still leaves whoever the mystery robber is."

"Yeah," Draco agreed, "and if they're here."

"Wha' d'you mean?"

"Isn't it obvious? We've been looking for a professor who hexed you, but we never really put it together that the person could still be the same person who tried to rob Gringotts. An adult, but not necessarily a professor."

"Wha' would anythin' of Gringotts have to do with me to warrant hexin' me?"

Draco shrugged. "That's what I'm looking into, because if someone was determined enough to try to break into Gringotts three times, what would stop them from following the stone to Hogwarts? Then there's the connection with the last attempted robbery being the same day Snape removed the stone, and the same day you yourself were there, it's just a lot of…"

"Coincidences?"

"And I know how you feel about them," Draco smiled slightly before turning serious again. "Father also sent me ritual instructions that would reveal if someone has a Life Oath attached to them and what kind. He doesn't know anything about you and Snape, don't worry; I told him we thought it would be a useful thing to know—you know, in a learn-as-much-as-you-can-about-people kind of way. Know thy enemy and what powers them, and whatnot. We'll have to wait until the new moon, but the ritual is easy enough, and it will tell us exactly what kind of Life Oath Snape did and what it bounds him to."

"Wow, tha's… Thank you, Draco," Hellion said softly, feeling touched despite himself.

Draco waved away the thanks. "The last thing Father wrote me about were the vaults in Gringotts, and not just in his investigation of the attempted robbery but in finding out if you have more inheritance, like I promised. Listen… Hogwarts has over fifty vaults in Gringotts, some of them the highest security Gringotts has, some very low-level. We obviously can't confirm anything yet, but… Well, Father says that some of the Hogwarts vaults' blueprints just so happen to fall right over where old vaults used to be, including a rather large, high-security Potter vault."

"Y'mean… Hogwarts stole me vault?" Hellion asked, confused.

"I don't know," Draco admitted. "It's just as likely that your father handed it over to Dumbledore during the war. It could also be an inheritance under Hogwarts protection that you won't have access to until you're of age. It could be simply that your parents moved everything from there to another vault to join their wealth; really, it could be a number of things. The thing is, my father doesn't think Dumbledore was very happy with Snape for giving you your Gringotts' key to the vault you do have."

Hellion had to stop his hand from going inside of his robes where he kept his key in that small, muggle poetry book/safe. "Wha' makes him think tha'?"

"Well, I'm not entirely sure who all his sources are, but apparently, the goblins got into a kerfuffle with someone about whether or not someone else was old enough to have complete access and control to such a sizable load, however big that is. The goblins apparently told off whoever it was, saying that the child looked old enough to them, and they refused to show records of the account's activity. There's no proof that it was you they were talking about, but…"

"Wha's the likelihood they weren't, yeah, I know."

"It's annoying, and Father cautions against you handing over your key to anyone, let alone Dumbledore, but I don't think you should take it personally or anything… like I can tell you're doing already."

Hellion bristled. "Am not."

"Rubbish, you're already beginning to fume. Listen, they probably just really don't think you're old enough to have control over that kind of money—and if they saw how much you've spent on charity alone, they'd probably think they're right. But obviously, Snape and my father disagree. The goblins sure sound like they're on your side. So, unless you just decide to hand over the key, there's really nothing they can do about it."

"They couldn't twist it somehow to say, like, Hogwarts is me guardian or somethin'?"

Draco shook his head. "Technically, your muggle family are listed legally as your guardians, and while you're here, Snape is your secondary guardian, and we already know where he stands with this since he gave you the key in the first place. So, try not to worry."

Hellion gave a petulant shrug, suddenly having a great dislike for adults in general, poking around at his things just because they thought his age gave them the right. If the Dursleys ever knew about his vault, they would have drained it ages ago, too, so he crossed his fingers no one was going to tell them.

Draco's hand came to hover over his arm to get his attention before he could properly pout.

"Last thing," Draco said, lifting the letter in his hands. "I wrote Mother, telling her that you and I have started a game, and I was enlisting her help for me to win. I told her we came up with an adventure game wherein the scenario is, there is protected treasure within Hogwarts and we're in a race to nick it."

"Okay…"

"See, if Hagrid, of all people, and  _ Quirrell _ , of extra all people, are protecting the stone, surely, there are other people as well. Dumbledore himself, for instance. Maybe McGonagall? Flitwick is certainly capable. So, in our little game, every teacher at Hogwarts is protecting the treasure, and I wrote to Mother seeking her guidance on how to get passed them."

"Oh," Hellion said, catching on, "tha's brill! Is tha' her reply then?"

"Yes," Draco grinned, looking a little smug, "and it's some solid advice. Now, all we have to do is figure out who's involved."

Hellion nodded, pursing his lips to think. Anything they thought would be guesswork without proper confirmation, and there weren't many ways to get that. Looking around the library for ideas, his eyes landed on the spot Hagrid had disappeared through earlier, and he smirked.

"Hagrid," he said.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "What about him?"

"Well, he's the one that told us about Fluffy, and Nicholas Flamel. I still don't think he even really realises the significance tha' he told us about Fluffy, to be honest. But he's already involved, probably knows who else is, and he's me friend. Him's a good egg. He might help us, with the 'game' at least."

Draco wrinkled his nose but sighed. "Fine. I suppose we can go after dinner, before curfew."

"We?"

Draco nodded, looking uncertain again, but pressed on. "If we're extracting information, I want to be there." He paused, hesitating, then cleared his throat and said, "Perhaps the Weasleys would like to join us?"

Hellion could see the struggle and dislike in Draco's eyes, and Hellion's chest warmed at this, apparently huge (because Draco could be that dramatic), sacrifice the blond was making. Damn stubborn, dodgy nob. Hellion's face broke out in a huge grin.

"I'll ask. I'm sure they'd love to."

"Right," Draco sniffed, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles on his robes. "Well, I'll let you get back to pretending to study. Meet you in the Great Hall for dinner?"

"Definitely." Hellion was still grinning.

Draco rolled his eyes at him and left.

The twins had detention that night, so it was only Hellion, Ron, and Draco who made their way to Hagrid's hut. Ron was annoyed because he wanted Hermione to come, but since Draco was coming, neither Hellion nor Ron wanted to push it. Ron grumbled about Draco's dislike being because of Hermione blood status, but Hellion didn't think that was it entirely. He knew Draco wouldn't want to be conspiring with more people than necessary, and Draco didn't know, like, nor trust Hermione, whom he considered to be a bossy, prude, know-it-all.

Besides, Hellion had the unofficial goal of finding a way to get to the stone himself, if nothing else but for the challenge of it, and he wasn't much in the mood to put up with Hermione's disapproval. She enjoyed the mystery and theoretical adventure of the stone, but whenever he or the Weasleys strayed to actually getting the stone themselves, her tone would change immediately.

When they knocked on the door of the gamekeeper's hut, Hellion was surprised to see that all the curtains were closed. Hagrid called, "Who is it?" before he let them in, and then shut the door quickly behind them, clearly not really noticing who all he just let into his home as he barely glanced at Draco.

It was stifling hot inside. Even though it was such a warm day, there was a blazing fire in the grate. They each removed their robes but didn't comment. Hagrid made them tea and offered them stoat sandwiches, which they refused.

"So, what can I do fer yeh?" Hagrid asked, playing with his teacup in his hand and not really looking at any of them for long.

"We…" Hellion began, sharing a confused glance with Ron over Hagrid's behaviour, "just wanted a visit. Introduce you to another friend of ours, s'all."

"Oh, erm, hullo," Hagrid nodded to Draco, then did a double-take. "Malfoy?"

"Hello, Mr… Hagrid, it's nice to meet you," Draco said politely, holding out his hand.

Hagrid seemed dumbfounded for a moment before he shook his head and took Draco's hand. Draco winced at the shake, probably at the strength of it. "Seen yeh 'round school," Hagrid said. "Always with Harry."

"Hellion," Hellion, Ron, and Draco corrected together.

"Yeah, yeah," Hagrid waved them off, glancing toward his fireplace a couple of times. "Now's not the best time fer a visit, ter be honest."

"Oh, er, well," Hellion looked at the other two, who just shrugged at him, "well, see, we wanna get your advice on somethin' too."

"Eh?" Hagrid asked, focusing on Hellion now.

Hellion gave him a winning smile, one he knew to be charming. "Yeah. See, me mates and me are comin' up with a game."

"Are yeh?" Hagrid asked. His beard twitched, and Hellion could tell he was smiling.

"Yeah. Okay, so, y'know how old Hogwarts is, right? And no tellin' wha' all it holds! Buried treasure, secret passageways, disappearing rooms…"

"Yeh sound like yer dad," Hagrid chuckled.

Filing away the passing comment about his father, Hellion grinned widely but went on, "Well, we're tryin' to come up with an adventure game, called, er… The, er… The Lingering Testament from Within!"

Hagrid's eyes sparkled. "What a name!"

"We thought so," Hellion nodded excitedly. "And see, it's not like we plan on explorin' or nothin', nothin' out of bounds or anythin' like that, it's all make-believe, see. But we don't know much 'bout the castle, and seein' as you know  _ everythin' _ 'bout the castle—probably more than anyone else—we thought we'd ask you some thin's, make The Lingering Testimony-"

"Testament," Draco coughed under his breath.

"- _ Testament,  _ The Lingering Testament from Within as realistic as possible."

Hagrid sniggered at them, refilling Ron's tea unnecessarily. "I reckon I can help with tha'. Wha' kind of things are yeh wantin' to know?"

The three eyed one another for a moment, Ron clearly singling that this one was on the Slytherins, then Draco cleared his throat and picked up the story. "Well. The game is an adventure one, you see, where we're Curse Breakers attempting to retrieve a stolen item taken from Gringotts."

Ron kicked Draco from under the table, causing Draco to give Ron a dirty look. To cover the action so Hagrid wouldn't notice, Hellion quickly explained, "We got the idea from the real Gringotts' break-in."

"Ah," Hagrid nodded, sounding amused. "Inspired yeh, did it?"

"Yes, sir," Draco replied as though there was no interruption, then he crossed his arms on the table, leaning in, and Hellion could tell Draco felt like he had a trump card. "In our game, the villain is old Headmaster Dippet, which is why the buried treasure is here, at Hogwarts. He's tricked the other professors into helping him hide it, and it's our job as Curse Breakers to beat our professors' spells and reveal Dippet for the fraud he is."

It was a trump card indeed. Hagrid threw his head back and gave a loud, booming laugh, almost loud enough to shake their teacups. Ron held onto his with both hands, looking alarmed, making both Hellion and Draco laugh as well.

"Well, I'll be, yer a creative bunch!" Hagrid laughed, wiping his eye. "Puttin' ol' Dippet in his place, are yeh? Beautiful. Blasted old geezer. Can't say I miss 'im."

"So," Draco went on, "since you're the resident expert, we were hoping you could tell us which would be the best professors to put in our game, and maybe some cool places, ones we're allowed in, that we could use."

Hagrid puffed out his chest. "As it just so happens, I think I know just the ones who would do the protectin'."

Draco beamed at Hagrid this time. "Excellent!"

"As fer who, that's easy. Professor Dumbledore—though he would see right through Dippet, o' course."

"Oh, of course," the three of them agreed at once.

"Then yer got Professor McGonagall… Professor Flitwick… Professor Sprout," Draco wrinkled his nose at that, clearly disagreeing with the choice, "Professor Quirrell—though, if I was yeh, I'd look into some o' 'em old Defence professor fer someone less… Quirrell." The three boys chuckled. "And let's see… hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape."

" _ Snape? _ " Ron exclaimed.

"O' course! Can't very well try an' break the best professors curses without puttin' Snape on the list."

"But…" Ron protested, "this is all just make-believe, right? In a real-life thing, no one would ever consider Snape."

"Yeh be surprised," Hagrid said conspiratorially, lifting his teacup and winking at Ron.

Ron looked vaguely panicked, and Draco rushed on, probably to keep Hagrid from noticing, "And what about the places? Where are some places we can play in, where we're allowed to go but not a lot of people would bother us?"

Hagrid began proudly rattling off places not a lot of people knew about around Hogwarts, mostly having to do with the grounds, and Hellion began fanning himself against the heat of the hut, looking around at the windows and wondering if they could open one. Fang had been tied up outside, and Hellion was seriously considering joining him. He looked toward the fireplace, wondering why on earth Hagrid had such a big fire going—then froze at what he saw, having only now given himself a proper look.

In the very heart of the fire, underneath another kettle, was a huge, black egg.

"Er… Hagrid?" he interjected.

"Yeah?"

"Wha's tha'?" he pointed.

"Ah," Hagrid said, fiddling with his beard nervously, "that's—erm…"

Ron gasped. "Where did you get it, Hagrid?" He got up and crouched over the fire to get a closer look. "It must've cost you a fortune."

"Won it," Hagrid answered. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"You don't say…" Draco said faintly, looking at the egg with mild concern. Clearly, both he and Ron knew what it was.

"But wha' is it?" Hellion pressed.

"Dragon egg," Ron said. He looked to Hagrid as though a bit confused. "But… it's against our laws. Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709."

Draco made a small noise, looking at Ron like he was slightly impressed. Hellion was, too, if he was honest, but remembering Charlie, Ron's older brother who obsessively worked with dragons, he supposed Ron would have grown up hearing every single reason of why exactly Charlie couldn't have one.

Ron noticed their looks and pinked a little. "Everyone knows that. It's hard to stop muggles from noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the back garden—anyway, you can't tame dragons," he continued, looking back toward Hagrid. "It's dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie's got off wild ones in Romania."

"Are there wild ones here?" Hellion asked, curious and craning his neck to get a better look at the egg.

"Of course there are," Ron said. "Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Black. The Ministry has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our kind have to keep putting spells on muggles who've spotted them, to make them forget."

"Brill," Hellion grinned, wondering if he could go dragon-tracking over the summer. He looked back at Hagrid and asked, "When will it hatch?"

"Soon, I 'spect," Hagrid grinned back, looking pleased with himself. He got up and pulled a large book from under his pillow. "I've bin doin' some readin'. Got this outta the library— _ Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit— _ it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on 'em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here—how ter recognise diff'rent eggs—what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, 'em."

"Not to dampen the good spirits," Draco said slowly, "but has it escaped your notice that you live in a  _ wooden _ er… house, I suppose you could call it."

Hellion rolled his eyes at the blond, coming to stand by Hagrid who had sat down again with his book. "We're magic, Draco. I'm sure there are loads of spells to fireproof the place." He then pointed to book, addressing Hagrid, "Wha' does it say 'bout Norwegian Ridgebacks?"

Hagrid happily began explaining what he had learned, and Hellion greedily took in the information, excited about the soon-to-be new creature that was coming into the world. Ron and Draco were very quiet on the subject, and it didn't go unnoticed by Hellion that they seemed to be exchanging a lot of significant glances.

Hellion was so excited about the dragon, everything else suddenly seemed unimportant.

At several points, both Ron and Draco tried talking to him, giving him reason after reason why Hagrid could not keep a dragon, and Hellion knew they weren't exactly wrong, but he saw no harm in helping the doofer into the world.

He spent every evening not at practise going to Hagrid's hut, bringing with him as many books about dragons as he could without getting Pince suspicious of him. He got almost dangerously behind on his homework, and eventually took to doing it in the hut while helping Hagrid with the egg or keeping Fang preoccupied so Hagrid didn't have to multitask. He even took extra care during lessons to be as good as possible and avoid any detentions so that only Quidditch practise interrupted his evenings.

Then finally, one breakfast, Serenity brought Hellion a note from Hagrid. He had written only two words:  _ It's hatching _ .

Thrilled beyond belief, Hellion skived off Charms after he showed the note to Draco and rushed to the hut.

He paused to say hello to Fang who was once again tied up outside before stepping to the door. "Hagrid, it's me!" he proclaimed, banging on the wood there.

Hagrid opened up quickly, ushering Hellion in with a wide grin on his face.

"Only just started," Hagrid told him.

The egg was lying in the middle of Hagrid's table, and Hellion wasted no time pulling a chair closer to it, leaving his bag forgotten somewhere by the door.

"This is so brilliant!" Hellion bounced in his seat, pulling out his last disposable camera of the year and began taking pictures. "Give me a big smile there, Hagrid."

Hagrid complied, laughing.

They fussed over the egg some before simply watching it in tense silence for a while. Slowly, Hellion could feel Hagrid's eyes drifting to him instead.

Eventually, he looked over and raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry, it's just… yer look so much like yer dad, Harry."

"Hellion," Hellion corrected automatically. "I do?"

"Exactly like 'im. 'Cept fer yer eyes. Yer got yer mum's eyes."

Hellion felt a pain deep in his chest, and he looked down at his hands. "I know."

"Yeah, I 'spect yeh do," Hagrid sighed, getting up to put a kettle on the low fire. "Probably obvious in any picture o' 'em, no matter the age."

"No—I," he stopped, wondering if he should go on. He felt like he wanted to. He confessed, "I've never seen a picture of 'em, actually. I only know because over the hols, I found the Mirror of Fuc-… er, the Mirror of Erisder? Elisder? Whatever, a fancy, stupid mirror tha' showed me me family."

"At the school?" Hagrid asked.

Hellion nodded, still looking at his hands. "Dunno wha' they did with it, but er… I didn't exactly handle it well."

"What d'you mean?"

"I might've… er, well, vandalism was the term used."

To Hellion's surprise, Hagrid chuckled. "From what I keep hearin', yer really turnin' out to be a chip off the ol' block. Bit fouler, mind, but yeh've always bin nice ter me."

Hellion smiled at the giant. "Why wouldn't I be? You're great."

Hagrid beamed, handing Hellion a fresh cup of tea and re-joining him at the table. The egg shook a little, and they both paused to watch the slight crack in it get larger.

After several moments, Hagrid asked, "Why hadn't yeh seen pictures?"

Hellion shrugged but otherwise didn't answer.

"Ah, Dursleys, the great prunes."

Hellion snapped his head up. "You knew 'em?"

"Not really," Hagrid shook his head. "Heard some stories from yer mum."

"Oh," Hellion sighed, somehow both relieved and disappointed.

"Knew yer parents, y'know. As good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Nicer people yeh could find."

Hellion smiled slightly. "I'm glad."

"Why d'you insist on leavin' their name behind?" Hagrid blurted, frowning at Hellion.

Hellion sighed again and set down his cup. "It's not tha'. I've just never knew Potters as people before—not really. Me parents have always just been… just an idea, in me head. They're the Potters. Me? Well, I'm me, ain't I? For years, I've just gone by Hellion, and especially in this world, Harry Potter… He comes with too much, y'know? It's like, everyone else has adopted tha' name as somethin' else besides me. They took tha' name for themselves, created their own Harry Potter. It's whispered to me wherever I go—or spat at me like an insult. It… it ain't a name no more, Hagrid. It's a title, a persona—a headline. Everyone's interested in Harry Potter, but ain't no one interested in  _ me _ . And I don't wanna be 'im. I wanna be me, and for years, I've just been Hellion—and not as an insult or nothin' like tha' either. Heh, I actually got me name because I wouldn't shut up," he finished with a chuckle.

Hagrid studied him thoughtfully for a moment then opened his mouth to say something. A knock came to the door instead.

"Who is it?" Hagrid called.

"It's us," came Ron's voice. "Malfoy and me."

Sure enough, Hagrid opened the door to the two, complete with their Gryffindor and Slytherin robes.

"Is it true?" Ron asked. "Is it hatching?"

"Sure is!" Hagrid beamed, gesturing toward the table.

The egg was wiggling in earnest now, emitting a funny clicking noise as Ron and Draco drew up their chairs to watch with them. There was a long pause as they waited with bated breath.

All at once there was a scraping noise, and the egg split open. The baby dragon flopped onto the table. It wasn't exactly what Hellion would call pretty; at a fleeting glance, he probably would have mistaken it for a crumpled, black umbrella. Its spiny wings were huge compared to its skinny jet body; it had a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.

As they watched it get its footing, it sneezed. A couple of sparks flew out of its snout.

"Isn't he  _ beautiful _ ," Hagrid murmured. He reached out a hand to stroke the dragon's head. It snapped at his fingers, showing pointed fangs. "Bless him, look, he knows his mummy!"

Draco cleared his throat. "How fast, exactly, do these dragons grow?"

"Pretty fast," Hellion breathed, inching his hand closer to the doofer but keeping cautious. He perked up and grinned at Hagrid. "Well, Hagrid, wha's the verdict?"

Hellion and Hagrid had been discussing names for the dragon for the past several days. Hagrid grinned back and said, "I was thinkin' Norbert. What d'you think, Ha-… Hellion?"

"Hmm," Hellion said, tapping his chin. He wasn't about to overrule Hagrid, but selfishly, he wanted his involvement recorded somehow. He glanced at the many, many bottles of brandy Hagrid had stored up for the baby dragon and smirked.

"Sir Lord Master Norbert the Inebriated."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are catching the drift of how I'm trying to build a Ron-Malfoy bridge here lol.  
> That's the last for the triple chapter update. I'm trying to get this done, so I'm hoping to be posting more soon. Coming up, a dragon injury, some fun times in the Forbidden forest with the twins, and Hellion throwing cautious aside in favour for revenge. 
> 
> Feel free to let me know what you think! Thank you so much for reading


	14. Burns Not By Dragons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Tuesday, everyone! This week, for me, Monday didn't exist at all, and this past weekend, I basically came out to my whole family. Luckily, everyone except my mother is being accepting and supporting, but phew... that was nerve-wracking. I'd try to prep these next two chapters Friday, but then my dad was asking to see me, and here we are!
> 
> Double chapter update!
> 
> There were a couple of people who really liked the way I was doing Quidditch in this, and I'm sorry to say that this is the last Quidditch match, and I kept it pretty short for those who usually prefer skipping the sport. So, I apologise. Hopefully, overall, it's a good balance.

The Norwegian Ridgeback was native to Norway and typically habituated the Northern mountains. The books compared them to the Hungarian Horntail, the only difference being its black ridges on the back and browner texture of its scales. Also, a far less hostile attitude. Hellion and Hagrid agreed that was a major point to highlight. Because it wasn't Norbert's fault his sharp tail cut down the length of Hellion's arm, or that Hagrid's beard was now significantly shorter after the sweet baby got the hiccups one afternoon.

So, Ron and Draco could say and do what they liked. Hellion knew what he was doing.

A baby dragon was a fulltime job, of course. Hagrid wasn't able to do his gamekeeper duties because Norbert was keeping him so busy, but Hellion was happy to help out when he could. Every day after classes, Hellion would bound down to Hagrid's hut, love on Fang some, then head on inside. Usually, the first thing he did was pick up the empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor, then he would help feed Norbert and test out different ways with Hagrid how to burp him.

Usually, around that time, Norbert required a nap, and Hellion would sit on the floor by the fire and let Norbert curl up on his lap. He was growing very quickly, already three times in length in just a week, so Hellion treasured those moments the most because he knew he wouldn't be able to hold the dragon for long. It was a sad day when he was proven right.

While Hellion babysat Norbert, Hagrid would feed Fang and then set up several more buckets of Norbert's food.

When Hellion didn't have Quidditch practise, he would go back down after dinner. And he swore, Norbert knew who he was. He would perk up when he saw him, and though Draco said it was probably because Norbert was getting ready to eat full-on mammals, Hellion thought he knew the baby dragon a lot better than that. Though he did delay in telling the blond when Norbert moved on to eating dead rats by the crate.

Then one evening after dinner, Hellion found Norbert in a more playful mood than when he left earlier. Hagrid proudly announced that Norbert caught a squirrel that had picked the unfortunate place of Hagrid's window to sit on.

Though he was proud of the growing, learning dragon, the news made him sad as well. He knew once Norbert's instinct to hunt began picking up, that would be the end of things. He had hoped for at least a month with the dragon before that time came, not just a couple of weeks.

Hellion sighed and sat on the floor beside the dragon who had his head dipped into another crate of rats Hellion brought with him.

"Hagrid, you know wha' this means, don't you?"

Hagrid blinked then shifted in his seat, not looking at him. "Don't know what yer talkin' 'bout."

"Yes, you do," Hellion sighed. "I don't like it either, but you know Norbert would be happier if he was free to hunt and claim territory. Everythin' here's taken."

"He's still too little," Hagrid argued. "He'd die."

"Maybe, but he won't be for long," Hellion pouted, petting Norbert's ridged back. Norbert quivered, looking up at him for a moment before going back to eating.

"I know," Hagrid said dejectedly. "I knew I can't keep him forever, but I can't jus' dump him."

"You won't be dumpin' 'im," Hellion shrugged. "He knows you, Hagrid. He'll always remember you."

"Yeah, tha's what the twins said."

Hellion perked up a little. "The twins were here?"

"'Course. Caught 'em tryin' to sneak into the forest again."

Hellion chuckled. "Wha' d'they think of Sir Norbert?"

"Loved 'im, o' course! Didn't want to come ter close, mind, not that I blame 'em. Norbert's been practisin' his fire-breathing."

Hellion grinned proudly at the creature. "He'll be the best!"

"Too right! 'Course, the twins called Norbert a match-maker," Hagrid laughed, reaching over and patting Norbert's side. "Said he'll be settin' up Lee Jordan and Marcus Flinch next."

Hellion made a face. "Wha' y'mean?"

"Why, Ron and Malfoy, o' course."

Hellion sat up straighter, an odd emotion turning in his gut. "Wha' 'bout 'em?"

"Haven't yeh noticed? Guess you wouldn't, always bein' here 'n all. I wouldn't know if the twins didn't say."

"Say  _ wha' _ , Hagrid?"

"Well, they've been practically glued together, by the sound of it. No mystery as ter why. They've been down to see me every day 'round lunch to convince me to give up Norbert."

"They  _ wha' _ ?" Hellion asked, flabbergasted. "They didn't tell me!"

"Guess they figured you'd listen 'bout as good as me."

"I guess, but…" 

Hellion didn't quite know how to pinpoint whatever emotion he was feeling. He honestly felt a bit left out, he supposed. Since when did Ron and Draco get on well enough to be able to regularly visit Hagrid without hexing one another? And honestly, when did either of them care enough about Hagrid to try to influence something in his life? And… why didn't they tell him?

It was unfortunate that that little piece of information was enough to distract Hellion, who had yet to put on his dragonhide gloves. Because apparently Norbert decided to use his teeth to get Hellion attention when the crate was empty, and with a yelp, Hellion suddenly remembered the Norwegian Ridgeback had venomous fangs.

Hellion tried healing the bite himself, but when he woke the next morning to find his hand had swollen to twice its usual size, he didn't much have a choice but to go to Madam Pomfrey. Draco was properly disgusted by it, and so were his other dormmates, so whether or not Pomfrey would recognise a dragon-bite didn't matter, he wasn't going to get away with not getting it looked at.

He was in a lot of pain when he arrived in the hospital wing, so the best excuse he could come up with was that he just woke up with it like that. She didn't believe him for a second, of course, but gave him some potion to knock him out regardless.

When he woke again just after lunch, his hand was firmly wrapped, but his head felt foggy.

He groaned and took his time sitting up. He could feel someone watching him, and he wasn't at all surprised to look over and see Severus sitting in a chair pulled up by the bed.

"Before you start-" he tried.

"What's the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Hellion blinked, completely thrown off by the seemingly random question. "Wha'?"

"What," Severus repeated, sounding deadly, "is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"Er… the spellin'?"

"Tell me, where exactly would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"Cabinet?"

"What would I get if I added mistletoe berries to a potion containing ground unicorn horns?"

Hellion scrunched his eyes closed and rubbed his temples. "Er, a festive colour? I dunno, Sevvy. Wha'cha askin' for?"

"I'm just surprised, is all, that someone who could somehow find access to dragon venom and be foolish enough to play with it doesn't have a basic foundational knowledge of poisons and antidotes."

Hellion groaned, letting his head fall back to stare at the ceiling. "Crap."

"Indeed. For your information, Hellion, monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite, all branches and species of which are very  _ poisonous _ . A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat, and it will save you from most  _ poisons _ . Unicorn horns and mistletoe berries are two key ingredients in making a common antidote potion also for most  _ poisons _ , some ingredients containing bezoars."

"Kinda feels like you're really stuck on the word poison, there, Sevvy," Hellion mumbled.

"Of course I am!" Severus hissed, sounding genuinely angry. "Do you have any idea what dragon poison does? It penetrates the body slowly, eventually taking control of your blood pressure, creating massive bleeding, preventing clotting, and eventually inducing shock. It's a slow, miserable way to die. Dragons use it for large prey, so they can calmly follow their future meal for  _ miles _ upon miles as the venom takes effect. Do you have any idea how lucky you are that your body's allergic and your hand swelled? If you hadn't gotten treatment, trying to hide it like I know you were planning, you would be  _ dead _ this time next week."

Hellion gulped. "I… didn't know."

"Clearly," Severus sneered. "I cannot begin to describe how furious I am right now."

Hellion bit his lip. "I didn't know, honest. I didn't do this on purpose!"

Severus only glared in answer, eyes  _ so _ piercing, Hellion felt like he was reading his mind. He refused to look away though, beginning to seriously worry he messed up too big this time.

"I'm sorry," he tried in a small voice when Severus looked briefly angrier out of nowhere.

Severus closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "It will be alright. Madam Pomfrey says you will need to stay overnight. You're lucky, again, that it's Saturday and you won't miss any classes over this. You're excused from Quidditch practise this weekend, and while you are in hospital, I want you to really  _ think _ about your actions. As punishment, your friends will not be allowed in to visit you. You'll just have to keep yourself company."

Hellion nodded solemnly, figuring overall, he was getting off pretty easy.

"Now," Severus said, standing, "if you excuse me, I need to go have words with the world's biggest twit to have ever existed."

If possible, Severus looked angrier leaving than he did before, and Hellion didn't know who Severus was going to have words with, but he did not envy the sucker.

Getting the poison out of his body was a painful process, mostly because it turned out that he was very, very allergic to it. Madam Pomfrey made sure to really force him to understand that if it had made it to his heart, he would have gone into cardiac arrest. She and Severus combined made him slightly terrified. He didn't blame Norbert, though, and instead mostly blamed the poor documentation on dragon poison in all the books he and Hagrid read over the last few weeks. The whole experience was uncomfortable at best, and Madam Pomfrey tried giving him what she could.

At one point he was dozing half-in and half-out of consciousness, and he thought he could hear familiar voices outside the room in the corridor.

"-dumbest plan you have had yet, you pillock, we just need to get to the tower."

"Well, it was better than your idea!"

"Not if we made it look natural. Animals die every day."

"Enough, both of you."

"Professor!"

"Relax, boy. I already know about the dragon, and I'll help out tonight. But if you're here to see Hellion, I'm afraid he's not allowed visitors…"

He drifted off to sleep, though, before he could really put names to the voices.

Hellion was released around noon the next day, and while he was anxious to see Norbert and double check Hagrid hadn't been bitten anywhere, he was also anxious to confront his friends. He wasn't able to the night of the bite, the bite taking obvious precedence, and now that he had spent a whole day in miserable solitude, he wanted to get to the bottom of Ron and Draco being 'glued together'.

He didn't have to go far to find them as the two of them were sitting beside each other on a set of stairs near the hospital wing.

"How mad d'you think he's going to be?"

"He can hardly blame us, Ronald.  _ Something _ had to be done, and we were almost too late! Look at where he is now!"

Ron sighed, "Yeah, I know. I mean, it's not like I don't think having a dragon could be neat-"

"Oh my god, you and that brother of yours can keep your monsters, thank you very much."

"Draco, you're named after a dragon."

"No, you idiot, my name  _ means _ dragon, and between me and Sir Norbert, which dragon would you prefer?"

"I really don't think you want me to be honest right now, git."

The tension Hellion had been feeling at the idea of the two of them spending all this time together without him dissipated as he watched the interaction, and he couldn't help but grin as he leaned against the wall there and crossed his arms.

"Well, aren't you two jus' adorable?"

Both Ron and Draco shot up and spun around.

"Hellion!" Ron cried, running up the stairs to him. "Thank god! Draco said your hand was the size of your head and oozing green!  _ Please _ tell me that's just him being dramatic as always."

Draco had followed Ron up and hit his shoulder, not all too gently either. "I am  _ not _ dramatic, you prat, I'm just a natural-born storyteller."

" _ Natural-born storyteller _ ?" Ron rounded on him. "You told Hermione the reason we kept meeting up was because I begged you to make a potion to rid me of my 'horridly revulsive deformity'!"

"Your wha'?" Hellion asked.

"My freckles!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Now who's being dramatic."

"Both of you," Hellion laughed.

They both shot him a glare, but then immediately began asking after him.

"I'm fine," he said, lifting his hand to show them.

"It looks like it's going to scar," Draco announced.

"You said tha' 'bout me cut, too, but it's almost all gone."

"At least the cut wasn't poisonous," Ron said, looking vaguely ill. "You should have seen Snape's face."

"Yeah," Draco agreed then he sent Ron a dirty look, "although we disagree if he was so angry because you were almost fatally hurt or because you survived."

Hellion sighed. "Ron, I don't think he's tryin' to kill me."

"So you both keep saying, but when he shows his hand, I'll be ready."

"Yes, Hellion, allow me to introduce you to your own personal knight in white, shiny armour."

Hellion snorted as Ron's face turned red. 

"Sorry, mate," Hellion said, giving Ron a teasing smile, hoping to ease some agitation, "but d'you think you're more tosser in aluminium foil?"

"Gits, the both of you," Ron complained, crossing his arms, though the teasing seemed to relax him.

"So, wha' have you been doin' then?" Hellion asked.

His question made both of them shift a little, avoiding looking at him.

"Wha'?" he asked, feeling dread.

"Well, see, mate…" Ron began.

"Hagrid couldn't keep Sir Norbert, Hellion," Draco said bluntly. "It wasn't just extremely dangerous, it was simply impractical."

"Was…" Hellion latched on to the tense. "Wha' you mean, was?"

Ron and Draco shared a sheepishly look.

"Er, well, you remember my brother, Charlie? Who works with dragons?" Ron asked.

Hellion nodded.

"We owled him," Draco picked up. "Ask him to take Norbert. He was more than happy to, and this way, Norbert will be with his own kind, where he can stretch his big ugly wings and fly. It really is for the best, you know…"

"I know," Hellion said, feeling vaguely defensive. "I was sayin' somethin' similar to Hagrid just the other night. Norbert's gettin' to where he wants to hunt, so he'll have to go soon. We know we can't keep him, it's just for a little while."

Draco bit his lip, turning pleading eyes to Ron.

"Oh, well, er…" Ron started, shooting Draco a glare and rubbing the back of his neck. "We didn't know, about the hunting part. So, I guess, it really was just in time."

Hellion rolled his eyes. "If you two would actually  _ speak _ with me or had said somethin', I could've told you."

They both shrugged, looking a little guilty.

Hellion sighed. "Wha'ver. Charlie takin' him is for the best. When will he be here, then? We can give Sir Norbert a proper send-off."

At that, Draco's eyes widened just a little then he quickly looked away. Ron, on the other hand, stared dumbly for a moment before closing his eyes and groaning.

"Wha'?"

"Hellion, uh… Well, you see…" Draco started.

"Wha'?" Hellion pressed.

"He's already gone," Ron said. "Last night. A bunch of Charlie's friends picked him up off the astronomy tower. Professor Snape helped us get Norbert up there and everything. It worked like a charm, but… I mean, he's gone."

Hellion blinked, feeling something hollow go through him. "D'they not give anyone any warnin' they were comin'?"

At that, Ron looked to be scolding himself, and Draco kept his head down, picking at the floor with his shoe.

"What?" Hellion barked, beginning to get very annoyed.

"Well, you see… We kind of knew since last week when they were coming," Draco said softly.

Ron nodded, and he at least was still meeting Hellion's eyes. "Yeah. We're sorry. We thought if you knew, you'd, I dunno, try to stop us or something."

"Why the fuck would I do tha'?!" Hellion yelled, unable to believe what he was hearing. "I've been sayin' since the start he'd have to go someday. Why in the world would I try to stop you?"

They shrugged. "You weren't ready to let go yet. Hellion, you were singing it lullabies."

"Yeah, Ron, because tha's wha' you do with babies!"

"Yeah, but, a  _ dragon _ baby-"

"Is still a baby! He's gone then, huh? You both knew all week he was leavin' soon and didn't tell me? You  _ wanted _ me to stay in the dark? You didn't even give me a chance to say goodbye!"

"We're sorry-" Draco tried.

"Fuck you!" Hellion spat at both of them before spinning on his heels and storming off.

He couldn't believe it. His two closest friends. He knew they didn't like the dragon, knew they were trying to convince Hagrid to let it go, and he wouldn't put it past them whatsoever to find the dragon a good home and surprising them with it. But how could they possibly think he wouldn't want to say goodbye? Or rather, did they purposely plan and scheme behind his back to nick Norbert and ship him off while Hellion wasn't looking? Did they not care that would hurt him?

Norbert was more than just a dragon. He was playful, and funny, and during that first week when he would curl up in Hellion's lap to sleep, he was so sweet and cute. He was Hellion's  _ friend _ and now what? Was he never going to see him again?

Furious and little heartbroken, Hellion rushed to collect Trouble then spent the rest of the Sunday in the Owlery with his cat and owl.

Hellion couldn't remember a time when he was actively furious with so many people in his life and still had to interact with them from day to day. Definitely not since leaving the Dursleys. Though Ron and Draco took the brunt of his anger, there was still more than enough to go around to Hagrid and Severus. He was mad at Hagrid at having not stood up for Hellion, demanding they wait so Hellion could say goodbye. And he was mad at Severus for around the same thing, mostly for putting the whole 'safety priority' over Hellion again.

His feelings weren't the only negative ones floating around either. Hermione, in a backward stumble of events, was hurt and angry with Ron when she found out about the dragon (Hellion may have told her), and that Ron had been working with  _ Malfoy _ for a solution, not her.

Ron and Draco were obviously mad at each other, each blaming the other for Hellion's and Hermione's temper (because Hermione certainly didn't let Draco off the hook).

Add on top of things, Daphne was mad at Theo (why, Hellion couldn't fathom), Pansy was frustrated with Draco because of his lack of attention, so she began turning her attention to Blaise, who was now annoyed with Draco for not having apparently entertained Pansy enough and making it his problem.

The cherry on top was the already-there tension running high among the entire Slytherin House. Though they were third in winning the Quidditch Cup, they were still dead-last in winning the House Cup. Severus closed up the game room until they pulled up much further in points, and so on top of having to begin to seriously study for exams, there was high pressure on the Slytherin Quidditch team to do really well on their match against Hufflepuff.

If they did, and won by a considerable amount, then they would move up to the second place for the Cup. Because Ravenclaw would still be fourth, if Ravenclaw beat Gryffindor in the final game of the year, Slytherin would automatically be knocked up to first place as Gryffindor would be pulled down to second and Ravenclaw up to third.

It was exhausting, really, trying to constantly run the stats in their heads, but that was also what the Slytherin Quidditch Bible was for. Hellion was saved from both having to sit in the tension their commons and reminiscing his evenings with Norbert as Marcus had scheduled a late-night practise for every night that week, forcing the Hufflepuffs to have to find some time to practise during the day.

The time between the dragon poisoning and the match, Hellion was bone tired but pushed himself the hardest he ever had in his life. 

The only clear thoughts that he had were of homework or Quidditch. He stayed on top of his marks, asked for extra credit work when he couldn't understand something, then spent the rest of his time with Marcus and Adrian, coming up with play after play, often staying late in the locker room to study the Hufflepuff's Chasers stats.

Even throughout the day, Adrian had a Quaffle on him at all times and would practise passes whenever he saw Marcus or Hellion in the corridor.

Hellion could honestly say he didn't think he had been more prepared for something his entire life either. Which was an excellent exemplar of what his professors had been trying to teach him all year because it paid off in spades.

"AND SLYTHERIN WINS, ONE-THOUSAND-TWO-HUNDRED-AND-NINETY TO THREE-HUNDRED-AND-FORTY."

Hellion was screaming with the rest, not caring about personal space as he dive-bombed right into the great blob of green and silver. He tried to help the rest of the team as they lifted their Keeper Miles into the air, who was the real hero in this match, but ultimately, he was too short. It was an amazing game that lasted almost four hours, and Hellion truly never felt prouder of himself.

In the midst of the crowds, he caught Severus' eye and was further rewarded with one of his rare smiles.

Fine, Hellion thought as he pulled Miles into a hug, he guessed he wouldn't be mad at Severus anymore. After all, he could have gotten Hagrid into big whopping trouble but didn't.

Beating Hufflepuff with a nine-hundred-and-fifty-point lead put Slytherin tied for first with Gryffindor, and so the tension within the House broke spectacularly with a giant party. Hellion was truly in his element, entertaining others with wild stories, laughing loudly when playing games, and at one point even jumped on a table to sing loudly along with the music, several others joining him.

It was really good, he thought, and he had a great time. It was nice that his Housemates seem to forgive his officially record-breaking loss of House points from a first-year since his Quidditch skills seemed to be more than enough to make up for it.

After he lost to another game of Exploding Snap, Hellion decided to run and get his wizard-domino set Daphne had gotten him for Christmas.

No one was in the dorm when he ran in, and so he wasn't as careful as he normally was when opening his trunk. He grabbed what he was looking for, then started replacing the items he pulled out once he knew his Cloak, Gringotts key and money pouch were secure. 

He was crouching to reach under his bed to grab an escapee comb when something else caught his eye.

He turned his head fully and peered underneath Draco's bed. It was the tail-end of one of the many letters from home Draco always burned.

Curious, Hellion snuck over and picked it up.

_ -ember that you are a Malfoy, Draco. It just won't do to fall out of his favour. You need to think of your family and your future before you think of a silly thing like friendship. You can worry about making friends once you've secured your place beyond any disruptions. _

_ As far as the Weasleys go, you just leave that to me. In the meantime, make nice. _

_ Remember your goal, Draco, and do me proud. _

_ -Father _

Hellion pursed his lips, re-reading the words several times. Draco's father had impeccable penmanship, Hellion would give him that. But what kind of father discouraged friendship for his son? And what did he mean about the Weasleys?

He bit his lip, wondering what the rest of the letter had said. Draco had obviously tried to burn this one as well, but since his and Hellion's beds are closest to their fireplace, it would seem a piece had jumped out and floated under the bed. He considered throwing it in the fire now, finish the job, but something stopped him.

Knowing but not caring he was invading Draco's privacy, Hellion stuck the burnt piece of the letter in his own box of letters, hiding it under the others. He supposed, all things considered, it didn't really matter, but knowing how the Weasleys and Malfoys felt about each other, he thought he would keep an eye.

Emotions and hurt feelings aside, exams were rapidly on their heels. A week before they were due to start, Hellion piled all his texts in his bag and slowly made his way to the library. He was dragging his feet, and he knew it. But he got a headache just thinking about the exams. He was able to maintain his grades, but he absolutely had to do well on his tests. It was just so hard, trying to remember the ingredients in complicated potions, learn charms and spells by heart, memorise the dates of magical discoveries and goblin rebellions…

As he was turning the corner, he almost ran into a frantic looking Professor Quirrell who was wildly adjusting his turban and looking like he was about ready to cry.

Quirrell took one look at Hellion, squeaked, then booked it down the other way.

Frowning, Hellion thought maybe he could have it worse. He could have to  _ grade _ all the exams.

Shaking his head, Hellion continued his way into the library. There he was met with a conundrum. On one side, there was Ron and Hermione at a table. At another side, there was Draco, Blaise, Daphne, Vincent, and Greg.

He quickly decided he didn't want to deal with either table, still sore over the loss of Norbert, and pushed deeper into the library. It took a little bit of hunting, but he eventually found the twins at one of the more private tables by the Restricted Section.

"Watcha," Hellion greeted, flopping down in an empty seat.

"Hey, Hellion," Fred grinned, quickly shoving a large piece of parchment in his bag.

"Not actually studying, I hope," he teased.

"Pfft," George waved his hand. "We plot, Hellion, not study."

"Wha's the plot now?"

"We're watching out for Hagrid," Fred answered.

"But he's been all moppy since the dragon and barely leaves his hut," George picked up.

Hellion felt a ping of guilt that he hadn't checked on the giant but shoved it away.

"Why are you keepin' an eye on Hagrid?"

"The Forbidden Forest, of course," George shrugged.

"We almost made it in last time."

"We reckon we've found a good path."

"But alas," Fred sighed woefully.

"Is tha' all tha's stoppin' you?" Hellion questioned. "Gettin' caught?"

"More like being seen," Fred rolled his eyes. "I don't know how Hagrid does it, I really don't."

An idea began forming in Hellion's brain, one that thankfully did not involve exams. Grinning, he crossed his arms on the table and leaned close to them. He whispered, "Tha's your folly, then, bein' seen?"

Fred and George shared a glance then leaned forward, too, meeting him and obviously intrigued.

"If you could, say, become invisible, you'd be able to get in?" Hellion led.

The twins nodded.

"Wha' if… I said I had a way to become invisible?"

"Prove it," the twins said immediately.

"Alright," Hellion grinned, "but I want in. I wanna come with."

At that, the twins looked hesitant.

"Wha'?" Hellion pressed. "You both have taught me some good defensive magic, and so has Sevvy. I got a blade, too."

"The forest is dangerous," George said seriously.

"Yeah," Fred agreed. "We're talkin' get-dead-or-worse dangerous."

"Danger happens to be my middle name."

"You only got one name," Fred smirked.

Hellion rolled his eyes. "Fine, but danger is a part of bein' a hellion, is it not?"

The twins didn't look entirely convinced.

"Come on, lads, aren't you just lookin' to do some recon in the forest anyway? If it's too much, we cut and run."

Fred chewed on his lip while the twins had a silent conversation. Then they grinned at him and nodded.

"Condition, though," George said, "you do exactly what we say."

"'Course."

"Hellion…" Fred challenged.

"Scout's honour," Hellion crossed his heart.

George snorted. "You, a scout?"

Hellion rolled his eyes. "It's the sentiment tha' counts."

"Fine," George sighed.

"Now show us the invisibility power of yours."

"Not here," Hellion whispered, looking around. "Can you meet me tonight in the dungeons?"

They nodded.

"Brill. Meet me by tha' paintin' of red quills just after curfew."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double chapter update! If you don't see the next chapter button, be sure to refresh the page!


	15. The Forbidden Forest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, listen. It never, ever made sense to me that Hogwarts would issue a bunch of eleven-year-olds detention in the forest. That's stupid. Like, I get it, but I disagree with it. And the book twice (or maybe three times) mentions the twins trying to sneak into the forest. So, I fixed it. I also tried my best to make the forest creepy and spooky, so let me know if it worked!  
> If not, I'm happy to take another pass at it.  
> I hope you enjoy!

The dungeons at Hogwarts were massive and, like everything else at Hogwarts, a tad random with places like the Quidditch cave, a room dedicated to levers, and even a whole section off portion that Severus guarded with flare. The corridors themselves were generally chillier than the rest of the castle as they were solidly underground, and though they could be a bit ominous at times, Hellion thought they were purposely made to look a little creepy. He, for one, appreciated it as usually he didn't have to contest with the rest of the castle down there. The dungeons were firmly established Slytherin territory, and they were reasonably possessive of it.

Which was why Hellion had told the twins to meet him by the painting he did, so the twins didn't have to go too far into the labyrinth.

He was already under the Cloak when he approached them, and he grinned when he could tell they could hear him, but not see him.

"Watcha," Hellion greeted.

The twins straightened.

"Hellion?" Fred asked.

"The one and only," Hellion sniggered.

"Where are you?" George asked next.

"Right here," Hellion answered, flicking George's ear.

George jumped a mile high, and Fred's jaw dropped.

"You really are invisible!"

"Told you," Hellion grinned as he slipped from underneath the Cloak to show them. "I got it at Christmas. It used to me dad's. Guess he left it for me. Don't tell nobody."

"Wicked," the twins said, gently taking the Cloak to examine.

"We could do so much with this," Fred decided.

"You're totally okay with us borrowing this every now and then, right, Hellion?" George smiled at him.

"Maybe," Hellion teased. "If there's somethin' good in it for me."

The twins rolled eyes, muttering about Slytherins, albeit good-naturedly, and agreed.

Carefully, the three came together and threw the Cloak over themselves. Hellion noticed the twins get a bit stiff, and as they began making a slow ascent up the stairs, he inquired as to why.

"Because of you, you lump," George sniggered.

"Wha' 'bout me?"

"You know how you can get, Hellion," Fred answered seriously. "The whole personal space thing."

"Though he has been getting better, Fred."

"Very true."

Hellion rolled his eyes. "I don't like people touchin' me. So wha'?"

"So nothing," Fred hummed. "We just don't want to get on the wrong end of your  _ blade _ here."

Hellion had to chuckle at that. "This is a necessity, Fred, you're good."

The air was cool when they made it to the grounds, and it was quiet. Hellion didn't know whether it was because something was afoot or because they were heading into a dangerous area, but it felt eerie.

"Maybe we should wait a bit," Fred suggested. "I mean, George and I have a solid path and plan, but-"

"But nothing," Hellion interrupted. "We could be good little children and go back in right now, but we all know that when we decide to do this again, it's gonna go more or less just like this."

The twins sighed.

"Lookit," Hellion reassured, "I appreciate the concern and all. I agreed to do as you say. I don't plan on breakin' tha'."

The twins paused to look at each other, another silent conversation, then they nodded and visibly shifted gears.

Fred and George had scouted out a route that sat almost perfectly between the Black Lake and Hagrid's cabin. It was the thickest entrance into the forest, but Hellion noted as they each carefully slipped out of the Cloak to climb a knot of threes and slip through a hole there, it was obviously an area no one—ie, the teachers—would expect anyone sane to try to enter through. Which made it the best choice, less likely to have magical alarms or whatnot around it. Hellion folded and tucked his Cloak underneath a knot of branches and followed the twins in.

It was dark.

Hellion could almost feel the ancient magic there, coming from the ground through the soles of his shoes. He knew the forest was dangerous, and it held many secrets, housed many creatures, and was very, very old. The trees were dense and rough from years of exposure. Sound also seemed to move differently. He could hear the small scurry of animals, darting away from the quiet noise they were making, but there was also a pointed silence, as though other things were watching them and muting their presence.

"Wicked," the twins whispered at the same time.

Hellion swallowed. "So, er, wha's the plan?"

"Well…" Fred began, stepping over some roots to get to the edge of a slightly worn path. "This is where the map ends."

"Yeah," George agreed. "We've only ever made it this far."

"Map?" Hellion asked.

"Another time," George dismissed, "come on. From what we can tell, this path leads to a bigger one. Neither are some of the main paths within, and we can use those to explore."

Fred nodded. "We reckon Hagrid made these," he gestured to the path. "If we stick to where Hagrid's gone, we should be okay."

Hellion agreed, figuring if there was anyone's path to follow within the Dark Forest, it would be Hagrid's.

“Recon only, lads,” Fred reminded them. He looked to Hellion, though it was too dark for Hellion to see his expression. “Stay close to us, stay on the path, and if you see or hear anything, say something.”

“Right-o,” Hellion saluted him.

Hellion was used to recon. Staking out a joint and getting the lay of the land was something he did often on the streets. Passing through any new neighbourhood required quick assessments of who was in charge, who were their rivals, how big of an operation they ran, and what price would be paid to pass through. Going in ignorant was a fast way to end up on the wrong side of a gun.

He would know.

Very little light from the sky penetrated the forest. Hellion squinted through his glasses but couldn't really make out much. If Fred and George got too far ahead, he could see how he could easily lose them. They seemed to notice that as well and slowed their pace to allow him to keep up.

After about ten minutes, Hellion huffed. “This is boring yet creepy.”

The twins sniggered. “No truer words,” George agreed.

Owls hooted, becoming a common backdrop of noise. They would freeze for a few moments when they heard twigs snapping and leaves crunching, but inevitably, nothing would happen. Once Hellion swore he saw something fly overhead, something big with a horse-like body and bat-like wings, but as the twins didn't see anything, he supposed his imagination was getting the better of him.

No matter where they went or how long they walked, however, the feeling of being watched never left him.

Eventually, the thick, dense trees began to thin a little, allowing for more light and no longer giving them the impression of being simply surrounded by blackness.

“Blimey,” Fred sighed. “That took a while.”

“Longer than I thought,” George said, keeping his voice low and quiet. 

“Now wha'?” Hellion asked.

“We shouldn't go too farther in,” George answered. “Not at night, I don't think.” Both twins spared a glance to Hellion, and he got the feeling “not when a firstie was trailing behind them” was unspoken between the brothers.

Hellion shrugged it off, looking around now that he could see more. The trees looked equally ancient, and there were shadows that seemed to move but stilled when he looked at them. A light breeze came from nowhere and lift his hair a little.

“Y'know,” Hellion said, “I don't think I really thought this through.” 

“Scared?” Fred teased.

“Absolutely,” Hellion answered honestly.

They paused in their path, and as Fred and George began discussing metres and clicks of measurement, Hellion listened as little critters he couldn't quite see scurried away. It wasn't long until he thought he could see what was scaring them—and it wasn't the three underaged wizards trespassing.

Off the path and through the trees, a flash of bright white blinked in and out of existence. It did again a few paces over, then again and again as a creature ran. Hellion turned on the spot to keep watching it, and when there was a big enough gap between the trees, he saw it was a very white horse.

“Yo, lookit,” he said quietly, pointing, but the twins didn't hear him.

The horse seemed to come to a halting stop before running the way it came. It was incredibly fast and graceful, and when it passed by the same gap as before, Hellion could see why it seemed to be running frantically. 

The side of its throat had a large gash in it. It didn't look like blood was running down from the wound, but Hellion knew an open wound when he saw one.

Something about the creature pulled at him, as though calling him, and before he knew it, he was running after it.

The forest seemed to work with him because he felt it was impossible to run through the thick trees without tripping on roots or something, but he did feel scratches and scrapes on his face, arms, and legs as he pushed through. He was just about to lose breath when he skirted into a clearing to finally face the creature.

It wasn't a horse—it was a unicorn. It was pure white with a white horn, and its big, black eyes fixed on Hellion. It made a small neigh sound, stumbling a few steps toward him, then collapsed.

Hellion rushed to it, skidding on his knees.

“Hey-hey-hey, it's okay-it's okay,” he breathed. He hovered his hands over the unicorn, unsure how or even if he should touch it. Luckily, the unicorn landed with its wound facing up and not on it. Upon examining it, he realised the silver stuff gushing from it had to be its blood.

The unicorn blinked up at him, its black eyes beginning to dull.

“Oh,” Hellion swallowed. “I dunno wha' to do. I… Okay. It's okay, baby, it'll be okay.” He stroked its mane gently, causing its eyelids to flutter shut for a moment. “I'mma fix this, just you watch.”

Despite it being spring and summer was rapidly coming, it was still cold enough at night to warrant a jacket. Hellion pulled his off quickly and pressed it to the wound, knowing the first step was to stop the bleeding.

“HELLION!”

Hellion glanced over his shoulder to see the twins rushing into the clearing, panting and looking frantic themselves.

“It's hurt!” he called to them. “We have to help it!”

“Oh, bloody hell,” one of them breathed.

The twins came to kneel beside the unicorn, too, and quickly, Fred was removing his own jacket to add to Hellion's that was swiftly becoming soaked with silver blood, blood that was somehow beautiful regardless of the circumstance.

“What happened?” Fred asked.

“I dunno,” Hellion answered. “I saw it runnin'—I didn't mean to take off, honest, but it was like it was yellin' for help.”

“It's a  _ unicorn _ ,” George said. “Do we know anything about unicorns?”

“Just that Kettleburn thinks they're 'nifty',” Fred said.

“We have to do something,” Hellion pleaded.

The twins took a moment to look around them then at each other. Hellion didn't feel particularly confident about their expressions.

“We need Hagrid,” Fred said.

“One of us shouldn't go alone,” George replied.

“We can't leave Hellion alone.”

“He should come with.”

“You get him to leave the unicorn.”

“We can't leave the unicorn!” Hellion cried, albeit quietly.

“See?”

George clenched his jaw, looking around them again. “I'm faster.”

Fred nodded sharply.

“Wha'?” Hellion asked. 

“George'll run get Hagrid. We'll stay here and watch over this doofer.”

“You can't go alone!” Hellion protested.

“Then let's all three go,” George urged.

Hellion found himself entirely torn. He didn't want George alone out in this forest, but he didn't want to leave the unicorn alone either. Logically, between the two, he picked George, but one look down at the unicorn and meeting its eyes, any type of resolve crumbled. He could see the pain it was in, and it felt like an evil sin against creation for a unicorn to be in pain. He felt it in his bones.

“No,” Hellion shook his head. “You both go. I'll stay here with the unicorn.”

The twins shared a pointed look then both looked at Hellion so sternly, it reminded him of McGonagall, of all people.

“No way in Heaven, Hell, or Hogwarts are we leaving you  _ alone _ in here,” George said sharply.

“You shouldn't be alone in here either,” Hellion countered.

“We have more experience than you,” Fred argued.

Hellion opened his mouth to disagree—to tell them under no uncertain terms that until they had to threaten the life of a perv, so he could hide him from a street's pimp knowing full well that if he was caught he would be shot, or worse, forced into recruitment, their experience with danger was nothing. But then he clicked his mouth shut, realising for the first time that the dangers he had faced before were vastly different from the dangers of this world.

Werewolves existed. Vampires existed. If he tripped into a wrong part of the castle he was supposed to call home now, he would die a painful death. At the same time, drugs existed, pimps existed, and guns existed. If he tripped into a wrong part of London, he would wish he died a painful death.

Hellion gulped, and perhaps it was months of actually feeling like a kid, but for the first time in  _ years _ , he felt a strong need for a good, competent adult. 

He briefly wished for Severus. 

But what he had were the twins, and he trusted them. 

“Okay. Just… do we have a failsafe?”

“A what?” Fred and George asked.

“It's… like, a backup plan. Something we can do if something goes wrong.”

The twins nodded, and Fred suggested, “Sparks in the air.”

“Huh?”

“ _ Periculum _ is the incantation. You point your wand up above your head, and it shoots red sparks into the sky, about a hundred feet. We should be able to see it even from here,” George looked through the trees to the sky. “At any rate, people from the castle would see. Hagrid would. If something happens, we just keep shooting red sparks as long as we're able.”

Hellion sighed in relief. Flitwick taught first-years that spell, but Hellion had completely forgotten about it. He was thankful for the reminder, and he wasn't sure, but the twins seemed to need the reminder as well. 

“Okay.” He redoubled the pressure on the unicorn's wound, Fred following suit, and Fred and George had a quick, hushed discussion. Then George was squeezing both their shoulders and taking off.

“Be careful, Georgie!” Fred called after him.

A faint, “Nope,” was George's reply.

Fred seemed comforted by that answer even though it was a negative.

“Alright, keep pressure on it,” Fred told him. “We have to try to stop the bleeding as much as possible—”

“I've dealt with open wounds before, Fred,” Hellion snapped at him. “What we need to figure out is if a major artery been cut.”

Fred blinked at him, but then nodded, studying the unicorn. “We haven't gotten to unicorns in Care of Magical Creatures yet,” he said. “Do you know anything about horses? Maybe that's close enough.”

“Do I look like someone who would know anything about horses?”

“Point. Okay, let me look. Get your wand, I need some light.”

Hellion cast  _ Lumos _ and steadily held the wand for Fred to gently and tenderly lift up their jackets and study the wound.

“This looks bad,” he breathed. “It looks… blimey, it looks like a clean, straight cut. It's too… precise to be made by an animal, I think.”

“What the bloody fuck does that mean?”

Fred redoubled the pressure on the wound again and looked up to Hellion, opening his mouth to answer.

He froze, wide-eyed, to something behind Hellion.

A chill ran its way up Hellion's spine, and slowly, he turned his head to look over his shoulder. Standing at the edge of the clearing was a man in a hooded cloak, pointing a wand at them. Hellion barely had time to register him before the man was sending some kind of spell their way. Fred was faster, though, yelling out a shield charm and deflecting the hex. With one large leap, Fred jumped over the unicorn and Hellion to stand between them and the newcomer.

“Bloody hell,” Hellion barked, pushing the jackets down onto the cut, hoping that would do something, before standing. He had his wand in one hand, still lit from the  _ Lumos _ , and pulled out his switchblade with the other. Without any hesitation, the blade opened.

Hellion winced as pain shot through his forehead, but he pushed through it.

“Hellion, run!” Fred ordered, not being able to send his own spell at the stranger as he kept having to send up shield charms.

Hellion found himself torn again. Wanting to help the unicorn or not, in this kind of situation, Hellion would indeed run.

It was an instinct well instilled in him. A loud telltale pop sound, an accusing-sounding “Hey, you!”, or a warning call about coppers, and it was drop-everything—no matter what, a deal going down, anything—and run. Run fast, and don't look back. And it never really worried Hellion because he knew his friends would run too. He would hope they made it, but he knew without a doubt they would run.

What the bloody hell was he supposed to do with a friend who didn't look at all inclined to run?

“Fred,” he hissed.

“Run!” Fred cried again.

It was all Fred could do to keep shielding them, so Hellion tried to think fast. First, he sent sparks up into the air, hoping it would be seen, then looked between his wand and his switchblade. He was learning a lot at Hogwarts, and a few spells came to mind— some the twins taught him, some Severus had— but at the end of the day, it was his blade he was used to. He couldn't get close enough with Fred's shields. He wasn't the best at throwing knives, but…

He gripped the blade, aimed, and threw it at the stranger with all his might. The blade twirled through the air, and the stranger dodged it a little too late, the blade nicking his shoulder. To Hellion astonishment, the blade continued to spin through the air, then like a boomerang, curved and returned to him.

Fred rolled with this new development, taking the distraction to send a hex. They continued this way long enough for Hellion to have thrown his switchblade at least five times, but then the stranger, who seemed to tire quickly as though weakened by something else entirely, apparently had enough humouring two school children. With a sharp jab, the man sent a wordless curse at them that easily blasted through Fred's shields, hitting Fred squarely in the chest and sending him flying.

Enraged by this, Hellion charged at the man, swiping his blade and promising blood-thirsty revenge. “Ain't nobody hurtin' me friends and gettin' away with it, wanker!”

The man seemed stunned by Hellion's actions, allowing Hellion to get in a few good swipes that he knew must have cut deep, but then he appeared to have collected his wits about him again, pushing Hellion away to point his wand.

The sound of loud hoof-beats gave Hellion only a split-second warning before another huge horse stampeded toward them. Hellion jumped out of the way, and the horse—half-horse, half-... _ human _ —was lifting his front two legs and attempting to stomp the man.

It was enough, and the man took off.

Hellion gulped, gaping at the new creature. From the waist up, it was a man with white-blond hair, but from the waist down it was a pale golden coloured horse. He approached Hellion slowly.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Er… yep?” Hellion pushed himself up and swayed a little. The pain in his forehead officially subsided, and it was only the absence of it that made Hellion realise just how much it had hurt. It felt like he was burned, and when he tenderly touched where the worst of it was, he realised it wasn't just his forehead—it was his scar.

“Hellion?” a weak voice asked.

“Fred!” Hellion cried, rushing toward the redhead that was groaning at the foot of a nearby tree. “Are you okay?”

“Define okay,” Fred rubbed the back of his head.

Hellion sighed, looking back at the new creature. “Who're you?”

“My name is Firenze,” he answered.

“Blimey, you're a centaur!” Fred exclaimed any injuries he might have had forgotten. He scrambled to his feet. “I'm Fred, and this is Hellion.”

“Thanks for helpin' out,” Hellion told Firenze. He jerked his thumb to him as he told Fred, “Scared the tosser off, he did.”

“Thanks,” Fred said.

The centaur didn't reply, just walked closer. Hellion could make out astonishingly blue eyes, a type of blue Hellion imagined would be on rich nobs' jewellery. He was looking at Hellion carefully, eyes lingering on Hellion's scar that was no doubt on display from their activities.

“You are the Potter boy,” he said. “You shouldn't be in the forest. It is not safe at this time—especially for you.”

“Why me?”

Before any more could be said, there was a sound of more galloping off to the side. Two more centaurs came bursting through the trees, looking rushed and sweaty. One had red hair, beard, and tail and a chestnut body, and the other had black hair and body and was the wildest-looking of the three.

“Firenze!” the black centaur bellowed. “What are you doing?”

“Do you realise who this is?” Firenze answered. “This is the Potter boy. The quicker he leaves this forest, the better.”

Hellion and Fred shared a frown.

The two centaurs seemed tense, and the black one growled, “What have you been telling him? Remember, Firenze, we are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have we not read what is to come in the movement of the planets?”

Hellion wanted to snort, but he was very aware it probably wouldn't be appreciated.

The red centaur pawed the ground as though nervous. In a gloomy voice, he said, “I'm sure Firenze thought he was acting for the best.”

The black one kicked his back legs in an angry-looking gesture.

“For the best! What is that to do with us? Centaurs are concerned with what has been foretold! It is not our business to run around like donkeys after stray humans in our forest!”

Firenze reared this time, front legs briefly in the air. It made Hellion and Fred take a few steps back.

“Do you not see that unicorn?” he yelled. “Do you not understand why it was killed?”

“Killed?!” Hellion squeaked, angry he had briefly forgotten about the creature, and he rushed to the unicorn. Its eyes were open and blank, and it wasn't breathing.

Firenze continued over Hellion's muted swearing. “Or have the planets not let you in on that secret? I set myself against what is lurking in this forest, Bane, yes, with humans alongside me if I must.”

“Is it dead?” Fred asked quietly, having followed Hellion over.

“Yeah,” Hellion replied dejectedly. It pained him.

“Come on,” Fred clapped him on the shoulder. “We should get outta here, find George.”

Hellion agreed though he was hesitant to leave the unicorn. He petted its mane and whispered apologies for failing to save it. Fred had said he didn't think the cut was made by an animal, which meant it was most likely the hooded man they fought with. Who the bloody hell was he?

“I will lead you out,” Firenze offered once Hellion stood up. The other two centaurs seemed to protest, but Firenze herded Hellion and Fred out quickly, them both leaving their jackets behind.

“You didn't see any red sparks in the sky, did you?” Fred asked Firenze. “Other than ours?”

Firenze spared him a glance but didn't answer. Fred huffed, folding his arms. Hellion didn't know anything about centaurs—he didn't even know they existed if he was honest—but they seemed otherworldly enough for Hellion to want to leave them alone. So, he focused on Fred instead as Firenze led them to a path. 

“Are you okay?” he asked him.

Fred looked down at himself and shrugged. “Yeah, nothing feels off.”

“Here's hopin' it stays tha' way.”

“You?”

“M'fine.”

“I hope George's okay.”

“I'm sure he is.” Hellion bit his lip. “Should we have stayed where we sent the sparks?”

“He left to fetch Hagrid, yes? This would be the path Hagrid would take to reach you,” Firenze assured them. “If they are on their way, we will run into them.”

“Tha' somethin' then, right?” Hellion tried, looking hopefully at Fred. Fred remained looking worried. Hellion sighed. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“'S not your fault,” Fred said. “It's that man's fault.”

“Yeah, who d'you think tha' was?”

Fred shrugged. “Let's get back before we start on theories.”

Hellion agreed though he would have preferred more of a distraction. The forest no longer seemed exciting, and it was scarier than before. He stayed close to Fred as they trailed behind the centaur.

His anxieties had just about convinced him they were being stalked by the actual embodiment of the boogeyman that was going to pounce and eat them any minute when Firenze slowed his steps. He turned to look at them, face serious.

“Do either of you know what unicorn blood is used for?”

They shook their heads. “We haven't gotten to unicorns yet my Magical Creatures class,” Fred answered.

“And we've only used the horns and tail hair in Potions,” Hellion added.

Firenze hummed, looked up at the sky then back at them. “That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn. Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenceless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips.”

Hellion whistled low. “Don't seem worth it.”

“It is not,” Firenze agreed, “unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something else—something that will bring you back to full strength and power—something that will mean you can never die. Mr Potter, do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment.”

The moment was too heavy, too ominous for Hellion to bother with correcting his name. “The Philosopher's Stone… the Elixir of Life. The person who tried robbin' Gringotts, that was 'im, was it?”

“But who would that be?” Fred asked.

Firenze seemed to straighten. “Can you think of no one who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?”

“Huh?” Fred asked, but Hellion didn't have to ask. He barely had to think about it. 

He could think of someone—a specific someone. Someone Hellion would love to get his hands on. His heart pounded, and his blood boiled.

“Fred!” someone cried then, and they all turned to see George running to them with Hagrid close behind, large crossbow in hands.

“George!” Fred greeted his twin, running to them.

“Are you okay?” George asked, looking them both over.

“Barely,” Fred sighed deeply.

“I was worried—I saw the sparks, but only once—I thought maybe.” Geroge sighed deeply too. “We said we'd keep shooting them.”

“Didn't really have the chance,” Fred said.

“Firenze,” Hagrid greeted the centaur. He was out of breath but visibly relieved at seeing them.

“Hagrid,” Firenze bowed his head slightly. “This is where I leave you,” he then said to Hellion and Fred. “You are safe now.”

“Thanks for your help,” Fred told him. 

Firenze nodded to him and as he turned to leave, he said to Hellion, “Good luck. The planets have been read wrongly before, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times.”

“Doubt it,” Hellion growled. “But I'll be ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! I'm excited to get this done so I can finally start on the year 2. For those of you who celebrate a holiday this week, I hope you enjoy and have a good time.


	16. Revenge, But First, Exams

Hagrid was innately intimidating due to his sheer size, but a furious Hagrid was downright terrifying.

And he was  _ furious _ . 

He was furious the twins somehow managed to finally sneak into the forest, furious at himself for dropping his guard, furious with Hellion because they were in enough trouble lately over Norbert (and apparently Severus had some very harsh words with Hagrid, so he was furious at the idea of getting another lecture from the man). Ultimately, however, it seemed he was furious nobody bothered asking him what the current state of the forest was in before even trying to sneak in.

"There's summat in here that shouldn' be," he growled.

"Ya think?" Hellion said under his breath. 

"Coulda warned yer fools if yeh asked."

They told him exactly where he could find the unicorn and apologised profusely, and Hellion guessed that the fact that they were willing to confess to wrongdoing and risk getting into trouble just to try to save the unicorn seemed to have won them big points. Hagrid promised not to tell on them if they could make it back to their dorms unseen.

It was a good compromise, Hellion thought, and he would take a terrifying reprimand from Hagrid over more detentions any day.

Which was why he couldn't stop himself from swearing loudly when they finally broke free of the forest only to find Severus Snape waiting for them.

"Professor!" Hagrid exclaimed. "I, erm…"

"Don't," Severus said, voice strained and deadly quiet. He took a breath and continued, "Leave them with me."

Hagrid shared a commiserating look with Hellion, Fred, and George, but obeyed nonetheless. Before he turned away, he did try, "Remember they're only kids."

Hellion watched forlornly as Hagrid headed back to his hut.

Severus didn't have to tell them to follow him, and they hung their heads all the way back to the castle. Once in the entrance hall, Severus said to the twins, "Fifty points from Gryffindor,  _ each _ . I will speak with McGonagall in the morning—I'm sure she'll have further punishment."

"Yes, sir," the twins said through clenched teeth, their dislike for Severus etched onto every inch of them.

"Go—get out of my sight!"

The twins didn't leave, though. They looked from Severus to Hellion, appearing like they would sooner lose all of Gryffindor's points than leave Hellion alone with the man.

"It's okay," Hellion said quietly. "I'll be fine."

"That's debatable," Severus snarled, twirling on the spot to stomp toward the dungeons. Hellion shrugged at the brothers and hurried to follow.

Hellion wasn't at all surprised Severus led them to his office. He readily took his spot on the visitor side of the desk and watched with muted amusement as Severus paced around the room, mumbling to himself.

Severus' robes, he noticed, weren't wizard ones but a bath one. He was in silk, black pyjamas and slippers. Admittedly, they were just as dramatic as his day robes, but his hair was slightly muzzled. If Hellion didn't know better, he would guess Severus literally came straight from bed.

"... doesn't even faze you…" 

Hellion sighed and looked around. He let his mind go to what he had learned that night. Something in him twisted at the centaur's implications, and even though he hadn't fully processed it mentally, he apparently had emotionally because he felt calm, and ready.

"... only behaving because of a  _ dragon _ …"

Voldemort. The man who  _ killed _ his parents. Severus was very sure he wasn't dead, and he appeared to have been right. But Voldemort was weak. He would need help, which meant Draco's theory that there was an adult somewhere around castle with, at the very least, ill-feelings toward Hellion and at worst, was helping Voldemort, had a lot more weight than it did originally. That would be Hellion's biggest obstacle.

"... Peeves would probably kill you this time if we…"

Of course, his Gryffindor friends highly suspected Severus. Until he and Draco could do the Life Oath ritual, there wasn't any absolute guarantee Severus wasn't involved, but…

He narrowed his eyes as he started watching Severus again.

Something Dumbledore was doing, Severus said… several professors involved… Hogwarts protecting the stone… It was valuable enough to add protection to it if anyone was going after it, but did they know  _ who _ it was? If the centaurs did, they surely had to.

Eventually, Severus came back around his desk, sat, took a deep breath, then fixed Hellion with a glare. Hellion was glaring back, and Severus quirked a surprised brow but was otherwise unperturbed.

"Explain yourself," he demanded.

"Explain  _ yourself _ ."

"Pray tell, what would  _ I  _ have to explain to  _ you. _ "

"Hm," Hellion said, leaning back and tapping his chin. "Where to start. I know… how long have you known the Dark Snore was sniffing around Hogwarts to get at the Philosopher's Stone?"

Severus' jaw twitched. "Excuse me?"

Hellion didn't repeat himself, just crossed his arms.

Severus let out a long sigh again and rubbed his forehead. He looked much older all of a sudden. It reminded Hellion on that night at the Leaky.

"You could also answer some other things for me," Hellion said. "Like, why won't you just give me the full story. Or, why brin' somethin' Vold-douche wants into a school full of kids. Or, how the hell d'you know we were even in the forest? Not helpin' Riddle, are we?"

Slowly, Severus removed his hand, leaning back in his own chair and looking off to the side. "You know… after the war, I was genuinely surprised I survived. I was alive. I didn't want to be. Almost all career opportunities were denied me. I myself was homeless for a time— very, very short time. Then Dumbledore offered me a teaching position. I remember, my first day of teaching… I  _ really  _ wished I had died."

Hellion couldn't stop his lips quirking a little. "Yeah, you ain't the best teach, Sevvy."

Severus sent him cold eyes. "I am an excellent teacher."

Hellion raised an eyebrow. "You make kids cry."

Severus huffed. "Whinny, bratty kids. They're too sensitive."

"Or you're too mean."

"Watch it. You are still in trouble, young man."

"Young man?"

" _ Insufferable child. _ "

"Potential stalker."

"Delinquent."

"Bully."

"Unruly, uncontrollable mess."

"Emo adult who forgot the word 'seaweed'."

Severus scoffed. "I did not forget the word 'seaweed'. I was interrupted by Longbottom destroying yet another cauldron."

"Sure. Because you're a bad teacher."

Severus glared.

"Your choice: you are either a bad teacher or an emo adult who forgot the word 'seaweed'."

"May I remind you that I am in charge of your punishment."

"May I remind  _ you _ that you are partially responsible for lurin'  _ Voldemort _ to a school full of kids."

It was a stalemate if there ever was one.

It took almost a full minute, but eventually, Severus blinked out of their staring contest. He bent and opened a drawer where he pulled out a small glass and half-empty bottle of amber liquid. He poured himself a healthy amount and took two big gulps.

"What do you know?" he asked Hellion.

"I know I was promised a temporary home where I was safe," Hellion answered, knowing his voice was full of bitterness but uncaring. He knew one day he would be used to empty promises and betrayals, as he was learning that was all there was in life, but sadly, it was not this day.

Perhaps it was the very late hour—or very early hour—but Severus didn't shield his wince.

"Lookit," Hellion opened, shifting to sit crossed-legged in the chair, "for the record, I'm sorry I went into the forest. I…" he swallowed and looked down at his wringing hands in his lap. "I'm really sorry. Shite's scary, so don't go thinkin' I'm chuffed." He sighed, looking at the man again. "It's been nice, to feel normal. And I did for a while. Friends, and 'omework, and food every day, even with the ghosts and magic bit. But I ain't like 'em other kids, Sevvy. The Headmaster threatened dyin' a painful death, d'you really think I wouldn't've had a dekko?"

"He—… It wasn't a  _ threat _ ."

"It is a threat," Hellion said seriously. "Ya can't put three-headed pups and trolls and a magic stone that beckons Dark Lords in a school, and it not be a threat."

Severus didn't argue, just pulled from his glass. "What else do you think you know?"

"I know tha' Voldemort is tryin' to get back to power, and you lot gift-wrapped a way for him to do it. And someone in this castle is helpin' 'im."

Severus nodded. "The Headmaster has made some risky moves, but it is yet to be determined how it'll play out."

"So, you ain't denyin' it?"

"I have my own suspicions about my own things, but at this time, I cannot confirm or deny anything."

Hellion clenched his jaw and replied, "I'll remember tha', then."

Severus didn't seem to have liked that reply but let it go. "I trust you understand the magnitude of the danger you put yourself in tonight?"

"As long as I can trust that you understand the magnitude of the danger  _ you _ put me in by even bringin' me here. I've been in danger here every damn day since September."

For a moment, Hellion thought he saw sorrow in Severus' black eyes. Sorrow, and something like shame. It was gone instantly, though, and then Severus was giving Hellion a sharp nod. "Go on, then. Go to bed. I expect you to attend all your classes tomorrow, and know I'll be watching you closely."

Hellion rolled his eyes as he stood. "Enjoy the view, then. I'm sure it'll be entertainin'."

"Watch yourself, Hellion," Severus called to his retreating back. As Hellion shut the door, he heard a soft, "Be careful."

He snorted to the empty corridor. "Always am."

Unsurprisingly, he found the common room empty aside from a few students' cats taking claim of furniture they weren't usually allowed on, Trouble among them. In his rooms, his dormmates were asleep in their beds. The night's events most definitely superseded his anger toward his friends, but he was still none too gentle when he roughly woke Draco and shoved him over to allow Hellion on his bed, closing the curtains as he went.

"Wha? Hellion? What's going on?" Draco mumbled.

"Somethin's happened."

"What? What happened?"

"So, I just got back from the Forbidden Forest—"

"You what?"

"The Forbidden Forest, I just got back—"

"Certainly smell like a forest."

"Because I just got back from the forest."

"What forest?"

"The Forbidden Forest."

"Are you wearing  _ shoes? _ "

Hellion sighed quietly, turning to kick his shoes off. As he did so, Draco pulled himself up and adjusted to sit against his pillows.

When Hellion was back beside him, Draco yawned, "Okay, start over. You had a dream about the Forbidden Forest?"

"No, I was  _ in _ the Forbidden Forest?"

"You… what? How could you possibly have been in the Forbidden Forest?"

"The Weasley twins."

"I… hate that does actually explain it."

"So, we snuck into the Forbidden Forest, and we found a hurt unicorn."

"Of course you did."

"And so we tried to save it, right? But then this man appeared and started cursin' us, me and Fred, George went off to get Hagrid. And then this centaur comes and scares away the man, then more centaurs appeared, and they were fighin', but the one that saved us, Firenze, took us to Hagrid. And they were sayin' these things, right, like how the stars are predictin' bad things or summit, but Firenze practically told us Voldemort was here at the school goin' after the— wha'?"

Draco had flinched horribly and gasped and was now staring wide-eyed at Hellion.

"Wha'?" Hellion repeated.

"Did you just say… are you saying… am  _ I  _ dreaming?"

Hellion sighed loudly that time. "Can you wake up enough to talk, please?"

"Sure," Draco said breathlessly. "Sure, sure, just…" he trailed off, wildly looking around, then slipped out of bed. Hellion followed him to the loo and watched as Draco splashed his face with water. For a moment, it seemed to work, but then he went back to just staring at Hellion.

" _ Wha'? _ "

Draco pointed at him in the mirror, and Hellion turned to look at his own reflection. His t-shirt was snagged in places, and he had some cuts and scrapes on his face from where he had run in the forest. His hair was a wild mess as well with a few twigs sticking out of it.

Hellion shrugged back at Draco as he ran a hand through his hair, knocking the twigs out. "Like I said, I was in the forest."

"Right," Draco said weakly. "Okay, let's… common room."

They went to sit by the almost-dead fire where Trouble immediately jumped in Hellion's lap. Draco, already naturally pale, was almost ghost-like by the time Hellion finished telling him the bare basics of what happened.

"This… can't be real," Draco reasoned. "Hellion, the Dark Lord is dead. You killed him."

"Ain't nobody knows tha' for sure," Hellion replied. "Sevvy figures he wasn't done all the way in. And it makes sense, don't it? If he's so weak he needs unicorn blood, then, of course, he'd be interested in the stone."

"But… but this is a  _ school. _ Hellion, you can't be right. You must be mistaken."

"Just look at the evidence!" He began ticking them off on his fingers. "Flamel has a way to be immortal. He entrusts Dumbledore to keep it safe all of a sudden. Someone tried robbin' Gringotts, several times, the very vault the stone was in. Now it's here at Hogwarts, and someone else—an adult by your own reasoning—tried hexin' me and attacked us tonight, someone desperate for unicorn blood. Even Sevvy thought someone was goin' after it on Halloween. All these teachers tryin' to protect it—who would try to go to such extremes to steal it?"

"You mean other than anyone with a brain? Even we have been coming up with ways to get it."

"Yes, okay, but it makes sense, don't it?"

"No, it doesn't," Draco protested. "If the Dark Lord was alive, we'd know about it. The world would know about it. But Hellion,  _ you _ defeated him."

Hellion rubbed his forehead. "Maybe, maybe not, but…"

"But?" Draco prompted.

Hellion dropped his hand and looked seriously at Draco. "But I ain't riskin' it."

If possible, Draco seemed to pale more. "And what does that mean?"

"It means, if it is Voldy, he's weak. It means I can get me revenge. I can get the stone first and finish him off."

Draco's mouth dropped open. "What?!"

"He's got someone helpin' him in the castle. He's got an inside man, Dray. Wha' have I got? I can turn his buttons into beetles, but tha's 'bout it. But if I can get tha' stone—"

"You'd what? Turn a bunch of metal into gold and throw it at him?"

"No, I'd've leverage. If it's the stone he wants, it's the stone he'll go after. I can lure him, brin' him to my turf, home-field advantage, and do him in."

"... Kill him?"

"Duh."

Draco looked at Hellion like he had come completely unhinged and let out a slow, uneven breath. "So… let me get this straight… you woke me up, to plot murder?"

"Basically."

"But… we have finals. Exams start next week."

"Are you fuckin' serious?"

"Are you?"

"Draco, I don't give two shites 'bout exams. This twat killed me parents."

"Oh my god," Draco sighed, rubbing his eyes. "This is insane. Positively insane.  _ You  _ are insane."

"Listen, I'm gonna try with or without you. But… I'd rather it be with you."

Draco looked pained. "I hate you."

"Is tha' a yes?"

"That's an I-hate-you."

"But is it a I-hate-you-for-makin'-me-do-this-because-I-will-help-you kinda hate you or a piss-off kinda hate you? Because I could always go to Ron."

Draco scowled. "Like I don't already know we'll be going to him anyway."

"Aha! You said 'we'."

"I… damn."

"Ha!"

"It's late, I'm tired," Draco shrugged. "Okay, look… let's just, pause. Because first off, I don't believe you, and I think you're barmy. And two, it's… late. It's just late. We'll pick this up later—and for the record, if you do want my help, it will have to wait until after exams, but I  _ do _ care about them."

Hellion rolled his eyes. "Dork."

"Criminal."

They grinned at each other then, falling into friendly ease.

"I'm sorry… about Sir Norbert," Draco said quietly.

"I know."

"Next time you get attached to a deadly creature, I'll let you say goodbye first."

"Tha's all I ask."

"That, and murder."

"Wha' are friends for?"

Draco rolled his eyes this time. "Come on then. You need a shower, and I need to reclaim the sleep you've cost me."

Hellion obeyed because a shower did sound mighty nice just then, but he didn't sleep, too busy letting his mind circle the wondrous thought of revenge. From where he lay, he could tell Draco didn't go back to sleep either.

The next night, properly exhausted, Hellion pulled back his bed curtains to find the Invisibility Cloak returned to him with a note that simply said:  _ Just in case. _

Severus did not lie when he said he would be keeping a close eye on Hellion. He seemed to be there constantly, always around the corner, and though Draco was stressed out over exams, he seemed immensely relaxed whenever Severus appeared, apparently confident that would be enough to stall Hellion.

Loathed Hellion was to admit it, he wasn't wrong.

The twins didn't consider their story about the Forbidden Forest worthy to share with anyone else apparently, and Ron and Hermione found the tale interesting but were obviously not very concerned. Hermione, much like Draco, was mostly solely focused on exams, and Ron was just relieved that Hellion seemed to have finally gotten over Sir Norbert. And Hellion supposed he had, the night in the forest successfully reminding Hellion that there were so much more important things.

Like, for example, revenge, and not the incantation theory-whatever Draco spent a good afternoon mumbling about.

Luckily, despite their differences of Sir Norbert, Draco had continued to plan for their ritual about Severus' Life Oath, and the night before exams were due to start, was more than willing to complete it.

Not knowing about Hellion's Cloak, Draco had snuck into the astronomy tower after dinner and was waiting there for Hellion. Hellion slipped out from under the Cloak before going in, storing it away in his bag.

Draco looked relieved upon seeing him. He was already drawing circles on the floor.

"That looks complicated," Hellion said instead of a greeting.

"That's because it is," Draco answered. "You have the candles?"

"Yeah," Hellion said, shrugging his bag.

"Excellent."

Hellion found a nice spot in the corner to settle into, content with watching while Draco made the preparations. He would volunteer to help, but he was pretty sure if he tried, he'd just get in the way or mess something up.

"There are many different kinds of Life Oaths," Draco was telling him. "They can only be forged when a life is saved with genuine intent."

"So, like, you can't save someone just to make an Oath?"

"Exactly. And each Oath differs based on the circumstances surrounding the life-event. So, let's say, for example, you were about to fall from a great height, and I pull you to safety. If you were the one who put yourself in that dangerous situation, and I was there willingly as well, then either one of us could activate a Life Oath of a life-owed. If you were not the one to put yourself in that situation, but you were forced into that situation by someone else, but I am there willingly, then only you can activate a Life Oath. If neither of us was there willingly, then either of us can activate a Life Oath—"

"Draco…"

"I know you find this boring, Hellion, but it's important. The last one, if you were there willingly, but I wasn't, then only I can activate a Life Oath."

"I don't see how tha's important."

"Well, the fact that Snape said he was the one to activate it tells us your father saved Snape with genuine intent out of his own free will."

"Tha's neat, I guess."

Draco looked to be running out of patience. He was finished drawing on the floor and came closer to retrieve the candles from Hellion. "The dangerous thing about Life Oaths is that they cannot be undone. Once you have decided that a life is owed, there's no going back. So, it's generally a really big deal if you activate one that required your own life owed."

"It is?" 

Draco nodded seriously. "It's rarely done, these days. A lot of the more progressive types consider it medieval or something."

"I can kinda see their point," Hellion agreed.

Draco did a quick tilt of his head, clearly showing he didn't have an opinion one way or another. "Other people consider a Life Oath a vulnerability and not too many people would risk it. By the sounds of it, Snape picked an Oath that would basically require his life owed either as his actual life—like dying for you—or to basically spend the rest of his life watching over you. And it's powerful enough to be generational, so really, there's only a handful it could be. Because it sounds like the Oath isn't just dedicating Snape's life, but it's dedicating it specifically  _ to you _ , to the Potters."

"Tha's weird," Hellion wrinkled his nose.

Draco shrugged. "Yeah, well, if it is what I think it is, then the Oath would have Snape killing himself before he could ever hurt you."

"Damn. Tha' one hell of a guarantee," Hellion yawned.

"Indeed it is," came a deadly sounding voice from the doorway.

Hellion and Draco both jumped sky high and turned to see Severus considering them.

"How'd you know?" Hellion demanded.

Severus looked briefly heavenward. "Have you not been listening to Mr Malfoy?"

"The Oath?"

"In a way," Severus answered vaguely, stepping further into the room to regard what they were doing.

"Sorry, Professor," Draco immediately started.

Severus held up a hand to stop him. "So," he said, sounding careful, "is it me that you just don't believe, or is this just merely precautionary for you?"

Hellion wasn't about to find it in himself to be embarrassed. So, he answered honestly, "Bit of both. I wanted to know how this Oath thing worked, and find out if you were tellin' the truth. Lots of people don't trust you, y' know."

"The important people do," Severus said sternly but then sighed. "Very well. I am also assuming that if I volunteer to help, you might think I would rig it in some way?"

Hellion shrugged.

"Fine." Severus looked tired. "Ten points for being out past curfew and five more for taking those candles from the Slytherin dorms. I expect you both in bed by midnight, whether the ritual is finished or not. If you aren't, you will receive detention, and trust me when I say it will not be fun."

Hellion grinned at him. He had a feeling Severus knew how important it was for Hellion to learn exactly what kind of Oath bonded them, and he suspected Sevvy to want to earn his trust. Hellion couldn't blame him, not after the words Hellion tossed at him after the forest incident.

Draco looked flabbergasted after Severus left them to it. It took him a moment to shake himself out of it. "Can you believe that just happened?"

"Sure can," Hellion grinned still. "Let's speed this up, eh?"

It took Draco another twenty minutes until he was sure he had all the runes correct. They were sweating, and Hellion could feel the magic in the air. He was a little nervous as Draco directed him to stand in the middle of the sigil then Draco began chanting words from a scroll his father had sent. 

The air seemed to  _ pop _ and crackle with energy. Gulping, Hellion shifted and wondered vaguely if he needed to be protecting his groin.

Draco's chanting began getting louder, and for a moment, it sounded as if the entire room was encompassed in Draco's voice. Then something seemed to shake, and Hellion gasped.

"Whoa."

"Hellion?"

"Lookit!"

The air around Hellion was bright yellow and seemed to be vibrating. He could feel a pull like the energy was wanting to follow something moving steadily further down in the castle.

"Very interesting," Draco mused, studying him.

"So. Wha' does this mean?"

Draco frowned. "I don't know. According to Father, this ritual was supposed to expose the connecting bonds." He further unrolled his scroll, obviously searching for something.

Hellion experimentally lifted his hand and wagged his fingers. The yellow energy stayed solidly with him.

"Alright, so this says here…." Draco squinted, biting his lip. Hellions watched, a little amused, as Draco seemed to realise something, his eyes widening just a little. "Hellion…. I think this is the  _ Debitum Ad Vitae Perficitur. _ "

"The Wha' Wha'ster?"

" _ Debitum Ad Vitae Perficitur _ ," Draco answered. He looked back at Hellion, eyes bright. "He didn't just commit himself to a life owed, he made it a dued-life."

Hellion blinked. "I'm pretty sure there's a joke in there."

"This is serious, Hellion," Draco pressed. "Not only can Snape not cause you harm, but he's committed himself to protect you from other harm."

"How so?"

"With the Life Oath. No wonder he lets you keep your switchblade. Allowing you to keep yourself armed would definitely satisfy the Oath whenever Snape can't be there himself. He must be fairly confident he'll never have biological children, too, or that he's the last in his bloodline. An Oath of this magnitude binds Snapes to the Potters."

Hellion couldn't help but smirk. "I bet he hates that too."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"He  _ hated _ me dad. Said he was an arrogant tosser. Probably be like if you had to give a Life Oath to a Weasley or somethin'."

Draco wrinkled his nose. "I can't imagine any scenario where I'd do that."

"Careful, you might jinx it," Hellion winked.

Draco rolled his eyes but then expertly cancelled the spellwork. Hellion felt a rush of wind swirl around him as the bright yellow faded, and as soon as it was gone, Hellion felt thoroughly drained of energy.

"Tha' was exhaustin'."

"Tell me about it," Draco agreed, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Wish we could just leave it like this."

"Sevvy would kill us."

"Yeah," Draco sighed.

Sometime later, Hellion decided it was ridiculous and stupid for any ritual to take more time removing the runes and sigils than putting them together. They both grumbled and complained, but they at least accomplished what they set out to do. Hellion felt fairly certain that the ritual proved the Life Oath and thus, Sevvy's own words. The bright yellow had felt safe, and he could feel it being connected with the man.

It was good Sevvy had created a small workaround with the switchblade as well, because, despite this being yet another point of protest from Draco why Hellion should not go after the stone, Hellion was undeterred. 

A low-grade boil of rage seemed stuck under his skin just thinking about Voldemort being somewhere around close by. There was no force in heaven, hell, or Hogwarts that was going to stop him now.

They were able to stumble back to the commons with only minutes to spare until midnight. Hellion was mildly surprised to see someone had waited up for them.

Milicent stood by the fireplace, wringing her hands. She gave Draco a glare that clearly said she wasn't waiting around for  _ him _ , and Draco muttered insults under his breath as he stocked off toward their room. Hellion yawned hugely, hinting at Milicent to hurry up. He really was exhausted. The ritual seemed to have taken the majority of his energy.

"So, er…" she opened, "remember at the start of term? You asking Gemma all those questions?"

"When we first saw the commons?"

She nodded.

"I guess. Why? Wha' the crack?"

"You said, one of your questions, was what if you were, what was it? Trans… trans-something."

"Transgender?"

She shrugged, looking away almost like she didn't care. "Yeah. What is that?"

"Just when a person is a different gender than wha' they were born as."

"How is that possible?"

Hellion yawned again, not bothering to cover his mouth this time. "Y'know, muggle things mostly. Surgeries, I guess. Hormones. Dressing differently. I honestly dunno much 'bout it except for 'em Drag Queens."

"Drag Queens?"

"Yeah. Men tha' dress up like women for shows and stuff."

Millicent looked more confused, and Hellion just shrugged once more. 

"Ask Pomfrey, I guess. Lookit, I gotta crash. I'm knackered."

She nodded, gesturing for him to go ahead. She herself looked like she was going to stay up, but Hellion thought he'd leave her to it. He didn't much care what that was about—he had plenty else to be getting on with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday, everyone! I know this is a short chapter, but we only got a couple of more. My goal is to post the next one in a week, then the last one right before Christmas.
> 
> I'll circle back and try to reply to everyone!. Thank you for being patient.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a socially awkward depressive, but I vow to do my best to reply to all comments. Please, please let me know what you think! All I ask is everyone be kind to each other.  
> If I've made you laugh, /please/ tell me. Making people laugh makes me feel incredible.  
> I've made a Tumblr for this at https://hellionhpau.tumblr.com/. Feel free to follow, message, tag, etc. I am absolutely approachable.  
> Posting a new chapter every Friday, or so I plan.  
> Thank you so much for reading.


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